So this is my life and I want you to know that I am both happy and sad

I can almost see you, as if you were never gone. Salvi’s standing by himself in the line for lunch, but I can see you standing next to him, just about a head shorter and both of you laughing about something that happened the night before. I can still hear that stupid laugh of yours. But Salvi’s standing by himself, not talking to anyone. It shouldn’t be like this.

I thought I saw you the other day, I really did. There was some kid standing in the school’s parking lot, and from a distance he looked like you. Same colour hair, but shorter, and he was taller than you. When I first saw him I remember thinking, “Oh my god, Austin got taller.” It was the weirdest feeling, so surreal, and I honestly believed it was you. It was only when the bus got closer did I see that it was clearly not you.  I went from shocked and completely elated to being smacked in the face with reality. My heart sunk, and tears instantly blurred my vision.  I didn’t cry though.

I had a dream a while back that you were brought back from the dead, like a zombie. I think we were at lunch, because we were all sitting around the lunch tables. Everyone was talking and laughing with you, like nothing ever happened, but when I saw you I was so overwhelmed. I wanted to cry, but I didn’t let myself. For some reason I felt as if I wasn’t allowed to be shocked, and I was to just act as normal.

I had another dream about you. I had four small table things with a large drawer in each, filled with belongings of yours. I was going through them, crying. And then you were back, and I had to go talk to you, because I knew what was going to happen. I couldn’t tell you though, it wasn’t like I had gone back in time, it was like a memory. Towards the end of the dream, it was either you had just passed or it was your funeral, and I was there. But you were there too, and I couldn’t decide if you really had died or a character that you played had died, but you yourself still alive. I can’t remember my conclusion (for some reason I feel as if I chose the latter, then woke up realizing I was wrong, or that I chose the latter first then before waking up I realized that I was mistaken). It was a strange dream, filled with all different kinds of emotions. It felt kind of real, except I remember when I was going through the drawers full of your things, I came across a copy of The Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper LP, and on the inside there were figurines. It’s strange because I don’t think you even liked The Beatles, but I don’t know. I never asked.

I sometimes wonder what you’d think of me now. We were close when I was at my worst, and I’ve changed a lot since then (most of my transition I owe to you). I just wish you could see me, since you must have thought I was such a depressed freak, which I was. I wonder what you’d think of my new music taste (I bet you would tell me how much The Beatles sucked, regardless if you believed so or not) or what you would think of my newly acquired passion for vinyl. I can never be sure though.

Sometimes I still struggle with the guilt and worry that we weren’t close enough for me to miss you as much as I do, and sometimes it’ll hit me all over again. Maybe I should move on, get over it, but, the thing is, I don’t want to get over it, because I’m afraid if I move on then that means I’ll stop caring and I’ll forget.

I never want to stop caring, and I can say in all honesty that I think about you every single day.

I guess all I really want to say is that I love you and I will always, always be Aunt Fatty.

 Happy 17th Birthday Austin!

I'm sure you would have had an amazing time celebrating it.

Sorry mom couldn't find flowers for you. I really wanted to get you some, but everywhere was closed.

Miss you.

There are flowers there,
On the side of the road,
I pass them quite often
And it always seems cold.

The gash in the dirt
makes it all too real,
And we're all quite shocked;
Too numb to feel.

How to react?
We have not a clue.
So we cry and laugh,
Remembering you.

You've touched more than one,
In fact a lot of us care,
But it get's a bit easier
'Cause we know you're right there.

So lets talk about your hair,
Or maybe your smile,
Even your music,
Just to hold us off for a while

Till we remember
That the memories we made
Will be the ones
Where you run the brigade.

Some pray to God,
Hoping heavin'd where you hail.
Others call your phone
To hear your voice mail,

Or they leave you a comment
All about life.
Even though you won't read it,
It lessens the strife.

I know that writing
wasn't really your forte.
That's why I wrote your two spanish papers
In less than a day.
[And might I add,
You received an A]

But I still think that maybe
You would have liked this.
And you know this is my way
To cope with the miss.

So Austin, my friend,
You were one of a kind.
And I can picture you saying,
"That doesn't rhyme."

I just got back from church camp [Sky Lake]. It was an amazing expirence, like always.

And I was going to write this long evaluation. All about how amazing it was to see everyone caring, everyone so loving. To be close to God for the first time in my life.

But then I find something out.

My friend Austin died.

The day I left for camp. [Sunday].

Only about two miles from my house. Maybe a mile from work.

It's so weird.

He's dead.

A car crash. Passed someone and didn't see the other car in the other lane.

Just like that.

He's dead.

So many people hurting.

It's weird.

I go back to school in 18 days, and Austin won't be there.

Part of me is convinced that I will walk on the bus and see Austin sleeping, his crappy little MP3 player on his lap, his mouth wide open, hair everywhere. An arrow on his pants that I drew two years ago.

During camp there was this one kid, Nathen.

He looked like Austin.

I want to go back to camp. To talk to Jim.

Just for some help.

It's really weird.

I'm thinking about Austin in past tense.

He's dead.

Just 'cause of one tiny thing.