I didn’t expect to find, I didn’t know I needed you. I didn’t know the role you would play, the endless laughs, and the memories that we would make that will last me a lifetime. I didn’t really want any more friends. I had my little group of people I trusted, and I was happy with them. Then you came. You came into my world, and overnight, I knew you would never leave. Within weeks, we were inseparable. You’re my first text when I’m happy and my first when things go wrong. We don’t talk all day, every single day, and that’s okay. We don’t have to. It seems like you know when I need a pick me up text or an invitation to dinner, and I can never thank you enough for what you do. You always seem to know just when I need a break from all the stress and work of college. You are as much a part of my family as anyone in it. My family loves you for you and for all that you do and mean to me You’ll probably never know how much you truly mean to me because it’s hard to put into words what it’s like at 20 years old to find out you had a best friend waiting to walk into your life for so long, knowing it was perfectly timed by God for us to find each other when we did. I love you, and I’m more thankful for you than words can ever describe. You’re my best friend, my go-to, and the person who understands me no matter what. I didn’t expect death to be the thing to bring us together. A few days after he left, my cousin passed away suddenly. I watched every person and pillar of strength in my life fall apart simultaneously. The intensity of each person’s grief meant most of us stayed away out of respect. As much as I wanted to be there to hold and hug and love every member of my family, this kind of tragedy is untouchable. Irreparable. Even to this day, I can’t put into words how tremendous this loss is. A couple days after the accident, he text me randomly to check in. His simple hello sent me unraveling. He called me the next chance he could. He sympathized. He empathized. Having lost someone significant in his life, he was the only person who understood. I could finally talk without choking on the words. I was able to work through my thoughts without drowning in the darkness of grief. He paused in silence as I cried and offered insights when I found myself at a loss in what to do. In the typical Kyle fashion, he even found a way to make me laugh. Oh, the power and potency of a smile; such an extraordinary thing. His most beautiful words in that pivotal moment still impact me to this day. He said. “Don’t forget, it’s a beautiful day to be alive.” We hung up the phone and I finally had the courage to get out of bed. It was the first time after her death I consciously chose life. And because of him, I continue to choose life, in each moment of every day. On Sunday, August 16, 2015, I sat at my computer and wrote a letter to all the people I loved. To the people who had wronged me or mishandled my heart. To the people I had done wrong to. It was an emotional and daunting task, but death puts the importance of life and the relationships you have into perspective. As I was inching towards the bottom of a bottle wine, I poured myself one last glass and wrote a letter to him. I agonized over the words. What do I say? How do I say it? Do I put it all out there? What if this ruins the friendship we’ve fought so hard to build? What if he doesn’t feel the same? It was scary as fuck to confront my feelings after all these years, but I managed to find the words. In fact, I found the words in twenty different ways. Each draft expanded further from the last about how I felt. How I have always felt. When I finally saved the twentieth version to my desktop, I stared blankly at the screen. What now? I opened Facebook Messenger and noted the date of our last exchange. June 2014. I drove a friend to the Esalen Institute in Big Sur. Instead of turning around and driving home, I went all the way to San Francisco. I casually mentioned getting a hotel, but I planned on sleeping in my car if it meant the slight chance of getting coffee with Kyle the next morning. Being the amazing human he is, he offered his couch for comfort. Of course I accepted and the weekend we had together was one of the most memorable weekends of our ongoing relationship. Fast forward a year and a couple months later. This time I was reaching out with similar motives, but an entirely different message. I pasted the contents of the letter into the box and stared at the screen for what felt like eternity. Just delete it. It’s better with him not knowing. You finally put your feelings into words, but you know deleting this is best. Do what’s best.