Saturday, August 23, 2014

Dear Corey.

Wow. I never thought that I would be writing something like this. Not with you. I mean, you're Corey. You're the boy that listened to me ramble on and on and tried to convince me that someday I was going to be a writer. Remember all of those poems and stories that I wrote and you listened to? I know that I must have been a giant pain in the ass, but you just smiled and listened and encouraged.

You were the boy that carried me home, up hills and hollers, because I was hurt and couldn't walk. I remember you telling me that I was going to be alright, and by the time we got home, I'm pretty sure that you were crying worse than me. You were the boy who gave me his sweatshirt when I was so cold. You bundled me in layers upon layers of clothes, when I was sick, just so I could go sledding a little. You carried me out, sat me on that car hood and commenced to pushing me up and down our hillside. Then you carried me back inside. You were the one that always told everybody that I was going to be on your team when we all played hide and go seek in the woods in the dark. That way you could 'protect' me. And you did. You made Johnathan eat our dust. You, Greg, and Johnathan used to get me into some of the biggest scrapes and trouble, because you guys would do something that you weren't supposed to, and all you would have to do is look at me with those big brown cow eyes and pooch out your lip, and I'd take the rap for it. And then you would just smile at me and I'd roll my eyes at you.

You were the one that taught me how to drive a three-wheeler, and it was your car that I wrecked for the very first time {shh...}. You got me started on watching the Resident Evil movies, and you let me re-write Puddle of Mudd songs with you. How cool did that just sound? If I had a nickel for everytime that we thought we were cool, and weren't, I would be a very rich woman. Do you remember the time that I asked you why you rewrote Mudd songs, but not Lynard Skynard? You told me not to blaspheme. And then you commenced to singing me every Lynard Skynard song EVER. But I didn't mind. I always had to sit on your legs on all of y'alls away games, and let me tell you being stuck between four football players is not necessarily as wonderful as it sounds for a young girl. No offense, but y'all stunk. Don't worry though, always on the way back, never on the way there.

You were just always there. Always. You were just another addition to our family, that we were incredibly lucky to know. You could have just been my big brothers gorgeous {I know you hated when I told you that you were gorgeous- haha} friend, and I could have just been the quiet/nerdy booknerd of a sister that had a crush on you. And I was perfectly happy for it to stay like that, but you were having none of that. You poked and prodded and aggravated until I finally got comfortable and the rest is history. You were my friend. I loved you. You still are and I still do. You will always be that beautiful boy that gave me guitar lessons and that carried me around when I was sick. Just so you know, I still can't play the guitar and I felt better days before you stopped carrying me. Oopsy?! You had a hard life. But within that hard life of yours, you touched so many of ours. You always put your arm around my neck, pulled me close and told me- "Katie Ruth {no, that's still not my middle name, but we never could convince you of that}, quit being such a punkass. Don't you know there's nothing a jar of homemade wine can't cure?" Well, old pal, I drank the wine. I drank the whole bottle, and you know what? I still don't feel better about this. I don't.

I'm sure that you know that I haven't really slept the last few nights, so I'm doing what you always told me to do. I'm writing about it. Here it is five am on a Saturday and I'm up writing on the computer. What I wouldn't give for you to be here to make me fried eggs for breakfast. You made me fried eggs every weekend and every day that we were out of school. I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you that I hate eggs. Seriously. Can't stand them. But thank you for doing it. Thank you for all of it. Everything. You know it all. I don't pretend to know about everything that happens, so you know what? All I can say is thank you for being my friend and for just being you. Sleep well, old friend. Love always, Katie "Ruth".

If you or someone you know is suffering from depression or having suicidal thoughts please contact The National Suicide Prevention Line and find help. It's never too far away. It's right around the corner. I have lost dear friends and people whom I've loved to this. Suicide is not an answer, it leaves behind a million questions. Especially- 'What if?' Please, and it's the people that love you that are left to pick up the pieces and try to answer those questions. None of us ever really move on with it, we just learn how to carry on with our lives, but it's there with us every single day. I can't stress to you enough to seek help for yourself or for others. PLEASE. Nobody should ever feel that alone, and no family should ever have to suffer through this. Personally, I have seen how it can impact a family and I wouldn't wish that kind of pain on anyone. Not even my worst enemy. So PLEASE find help. Like I said, it's never too far away.