RIP Dearest Chris

Dear Chris,

Tomorrow is your birthday, and like I have done for the past five years since you died, I will visit your grave in the afternoon, leaving a sprig of Rosemary, for remembrance, and plant flowers.



It doesn't seem that long ago when I got the call you had died. You were over at my apartment the night before you died, and we spent 7 hours talking. You talked about your divorce, and cried. You talked about the girl you had just started dating and you just couldn't get over your ex. I had just come home from the hospital a week before and was still shaking from the ECT. You cooked me a meal, and told me the funniest story about women and toilet paper.

You tried to cheer me by bringing over your favorite VHS tape, the one from Saturday Night Live with More Cowbell.
We laughed til we cried.



I had just gotten Holly and we discussed plans to get a kitten for you at the shelter that next weekend. You really fell for her. When you left, I handed you your Christmas present, a box set of Lord of the Rings.

You left at 11. You were so tired, so not like yourself, I begged you to sleep on the couch . You wanted to drive home, you had just gotten a new car and was itching to drive it.

The next day I woke up at 6 am. I couldn't reach you. I knew something was wrong. I tried to call you all weekend, sending you email after email, text message after text message. Nothing.

Monday morning I got several calls. One from work saying you had died over the weekend, no details known. An hour later a call from the Jersey Cops saying they found a Christmas card and the books in the car and gave me the third degree in my relationship/friendship with you. Then they told me what I already knew. You had died. Then the worst call of them all, from the owner of your complex, asking for my address. There was a letter in his apartment. To this day I have not opened it.


I miss you every day of my life, I don't think a day goes by where I don't think of you. And wish I could have said something, done something, tied you down to the sofa so you could sleep.

I wish you were still with us, not sleeping in the ground.

So tomorrow I will visit you and when I come home watch More Cowbell. And cry, and miss you.

Where ever you are dearest friend, have a happy birthday.