To My Dear Friend Nick

Sometime this month, a year ago, you left this Earth. I’m sorry we never got around to our last coffee, but since then I’ve learned to make time for the important things in life, the little things in life; like drinking coffee with your good friend. I know we’ll get to it sometime.

Thank you for being with me, I have felt your guidance when I have needed it. Thank you for teaching me ASL, I feel your support the more I practice.

Thank you for your kind soul, your sassy answers when you knew I could do better and believe in myself. Thank you for being the beautiful human you were.

You’ve left your mark behind. The rest of us just try to follow.

A silent farewell

It’s amazing how many thoughts can go through your mind and yet your body can remain ever still.  Breathe, more like a ‘gasp’ for air. Silence. A tingling sensation from the back of my neck, down my spine. Piercing silence in my ears.

Deep breaths. Rushed thoughts.

Just open your laptop and start writing.

I’m extremely aware of my body, of a deep empty hole in my chest.  A heavy-dense-pull towards the pit of my stomach. Deep breathes.  Not too long ago a friend that moved to Mexico for med school sent me a picture of a Facebook post.  As I opened my Whatsapp window, the world stop.  A small picture of a friend’s face was staring back at me – I had been waiting to hear back from him – and there he was.  The picture was positioned at the bottom of the post, below small black letters, announcing the death of Nicholas Williams, a dear friend of mine.  The picture belongs to an article by “Wins abc” news website.  This article reported the death of a Boston college student.  wisn.com/…ton-suffolk-university/12008224
 I read and re-read the words. I still couldn’t believe it was him.  A few weeks ago we were making plans to go get some coffee.  Our schedules made it difficult to agree on a time. And you always think you have time. Him leaving this world would have been the last possibility I would have imagined. So we kept postponing our meetings.  How much does it hurt to know that we were in the same city and I didn’t make enough of an effort; I thought I’d have time Even in his parting he taught me a valuable lesson, one of many…

I look at the picture again.  His black square glasses, thick bushy eyebrows, and brown eyes. I remember his husky voice and his graceful signing. His kind and sweet visage are apparent in the picture; you can just tell he was a beautiful soul.

A part of me is still waiting to get a text back… Maybe it’s not real? And yet, of course, I know it is A heavy deep pull towards the pit of my stomach. He’s gone. I didn’t get to say goodbye. I didn’t get to see him… I didn’t get to say to him what a beautiful soul he was…
Having faced harsh lessons early in life, he always showed a positive, full of love, “it will work out in the end” disposition towards life.  He was smart, sweet, talented, sassy; he was full of life. He had great strength within him; along with his contagiously beautiful smile, he would gladly help others through their hard times…  He spread his love, support, and kindness… He was a shining beam of light… And such an accomplished young man. Maybe he was too good for this world; he was only 25.

It’s so surreal… Yet, the acute weight of his absence is so very present  It’s not an “I can’t see him because he is in Boston,” I won’t see him again; not in this world, not anymore.

Thank you for sharing your beautiful soul in a world that didn’t deserve to keep you… Thank you for all your kindness, your support, your encouragement, your example… Thank you for being a little ray of light, I guess it’s time for the rest of us to try to continue your work… You leave really large shoes to fill

I know you are in a better place, where ever that may be… But I miss you terribly, I’m sorry we didn’t get to see each other… I’m sorry I thought I had more time…

Rest in peace my dearest friend, you are forever in my heart…

Until we meet again

Alcuni pensieri Essays Long reads Old writings

missejjessim View All →

An incurable passion for writing; a poet at heart. I am a writer on the road.

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