I'm Sorry

‘When you were five, I found you, or maybe you found me, I’m not entirely sure. But for the sake of keeping it short, we found each other. You got me in trouble a lot then, I never really did anything bad, but you still happened to get me in trouble. Those were good times. 1

As time went on, the trouble you got me into seemed to go away. We just played then. How many games of tag did we play on the playground? I don’t know, enough though and somehow I was either the sole girl on your team or you were the sole boy on mine. Freeze tag, jail tag, there were so many types, we must’ve played them all. 2

In the midst of the fun, you never backed away, even when they teased us, saying we were boyfriend/girlfriend. I guess that was just how we were though, we were best friends and in second grade, nothing more. 3

We stayed best friends all through elementary and even middle school, then things started to change. I found a new niche of friends and so did you.4

While I was hanging with the “good” kids and doing what I needed to do to get through school, you found the “bad” kids. So many times I caught you, smoking a joint or picking on the freshman. You always told me not to worry, to just let you be. And I did, I let you go, I ignored the drugs, the alcohol, the school skipping, everything. I ignored it. Sooner or later though I ignored you. By graduation, we weren’t even talking. Why? Because I let you down, I figured, why not let him, he’ll figure it out some day. Have you learned? Not like it matters now, but have you? I hope so, because knowing that you left and I didn’t do anything about it is already killing me inside. I loved you, but for those years after middle school, did you even know it? I should’ve helped you, I should’ve been there. When you told me not to worry, I should have said “screw this, I’m helping you”, but I didn’t, I didn’t want to get you mad, so I ignored it, now look at you. I’m sorry, I truly am. I loved you, Ed, and I’m sorry.’5

Katie wiped the tears from her eyes as she placed a rose on her friend’s headstone. She was an undergrad at Kent State, a sophomore, and she’d gotten the call right after class. Her best friend from high school, or rather middle school, had gotten in an accident. He’d died en route to the hospital. When the tests came back, they showed high levels of alcohol in his system, as well as cocaine and meth. 6

She blamed herself for not stopping him while they were still in high school, for worrying too much about what he would’ve said. 7

“Why couldn’t you have just called out for help, Ed?” she questioned as she looked out over cemetery. Truth was though; he had, in his own way. She’d received numerous calls the end of their junior year, asking for her to pick him up from some party, he was always drunk, always high. During those rides he’d talk about how he hated his friends, how he hated his parents even. Never once did she really think about what he was saying, she always figured it was just the ramblings of a drunk. 8

What she hadn’t known was that he kept a journal, apparently he’d started keeping it in eighth grade, mostly by request of his guidance counselor. He kept one until the day he died. 9

They’d been in a bin in his little, run down apartment. She’d taken them before his parents saw. Each one held his deepest thoughts, sometimes they were just thoughts, sometimes they were poems; each one though was filled with pain. 10

He’d felt so alone, so unappreciated. His parents, he said, never really appreciated him. She wanted to disbelieve this, but at the same time she could. His parents were the type to want everything perfect and if it wasn’t, oh well. Eddie was by no means perfect, he’d always brought home poor grades, he got into trouble, he did everything they didn’t want him to do. They never got him help either, but even if they didn’t she knew she should’ve, that was her job, as best friend, it was her job to keep him away from things that would harm him. 11

“I’m sorry, Eddie, I’m sorry I let you down.” She said, placing a hand on the cold stone. Swallowing she brought her coat around her, protecting herself from the chill of the day. She walked away, never to visit again, because if she did, she felt she might end up cold and stiff, just like Eddie. The guilt ate her up inside and visiting, only made it worse. She could help with as many drug and alcohol programs as there was possible, it wouldn’t make a difference, because in her mind, she had killed Eddie Calivert12