Hi Nick,

I haven't written lately, mostly because I don't know what to say. Actually, that's a lie. I have lots of things to say. You are missed. You are loved. The world is a different place without you.

Sometimes I feel you around me; I catch a whiff of a smell that reminds me of you, or I see an argyle sweater (ah! argyle!) like the one you wore that night back in April, that night we spent hours upon hours talking about life's problems and blessings. Or I hear that song we would turn on so loud and dance to, acting like little children as we spun around your living room.

But there are the things I miss that I can't remember as well: your three-syllable laugh, the mischievous sparkle in your eyes, the way you held me so tight at the airport when we said goodbye for the last time, the exact phrase when you told me that of course you would call me as soon as you landed and I should know you were going to because when you hugged me you inhaled the scent of my hair. And that's when I knew you loved me. And that's when I knew that I loved you, too.

I miss you so much, Nick. My heart hurts.

love,
Holly

two steps forward, one step back

25. That's the number of first dates I've been on since I broke up with Chris.

74 days since Nick died. So many hours of crying, of pleeding with God, of getting so damn mad that I can't see straight.

I feel so torn. I love dating; I spent almost 5 years with a man who treated me like garbage. It's liberating to date.

But I miss Nick so much, each date feels like I'm forgetting him.

His mom is proud of me. She wants me to be happy, to find someone that loves me and deserves my love in return.

I want Nick back. We never had our chance. And I swear! Just when I htink things are going well, when I'm feeling happy and like I've accepted his death, I hear a song or see something or get a call from his mom. I suppose to can use it to push myself forward to live the best life I can live, but it's so hard.

Nick, I miss you. I love you. You were the best there ever was, and the best that ever will be.


love,
Holly

Dear Nick,

Your mom texted me last Friday at 2 am. I called her, and we talked for almost two hours. This is a regular occurrence. Your mom needs me, I need her. Today one of her friends called and left me a message about how much your mom loves me, how I’m so special to her, how she says I should be her daughter-in-law.

I’ve been dating lots of guys, but they don’t even come close to you. I miss you so damn much. I feel so cheated. You and me, we were perfect. It’s not fair.

I love you so much.

Love,
Holly

the first day is over!

Hi Nick,

I had this fantasy of getting flowers on the first day of school. I'd be standing at the front of the room, talking with my students about themes in a novel or great scientific breakthroughs, and someone would come in and announce that there was a beautiful bouquet of flowers with my name on it. Part of the fantasy is that it would come from someone who completely adored me.

Well, my fantasy came true today. My parents sent flowers, but not to me- they addressed them to the whole school! And while it's true that my parents are lovely, thoughtful people, I can't help but feel that you had a role in this.

I wish you were here to meet my students and see the classroom. You'd love it.

Love,
Holly

Dear Nick,

I miss you so much. Today I met my students and their parents. I think it’s going to be a great group. I felt your presence with me and supporting me and enveloping me. I just felt so good all day, like my life was moving forward in a positive direction; it just felt so right. Don’t get me wrong, I was scared out of my mind. But I had (and have) full faith that everything will come together.

I felt you so strongly. When my coworker from the toystore came in with her husband and daughter, I wanted to grab your picture off my desk. “This is him!” I wanted to say. “This is my Tony!” Actually, I wanted to show it to everyone who walked in the door. I wanted them to see your goofy smile, to know that our class has a guardian angel.

The minute I left the school, I felt sad again. I felt alone and empty.

I came home and quickly fell asleep. Kat, the 3rd grade teacher and my closest friend here, called me to see if I wanted to get some dinner. I was confused and disoriented, thinking that it was Tuesday already and that I was late for school! On the drive there, I talked to both Lin and Emily. We caught up on life and love and work. And then Kat and I had a light dinner while hashing out the day and our lives. God, it’s good to have such great friends. I have friends in Arizona, Washington, St. Louis, Ohio, Boston, NYC, Rhode Island, and heaven.

I know it goes without saying, but watch over me tomorrow, okay? I’m really nervous. And I miss you so much.


Love,
Holly

my guardian angel

Dear Nick,

I can't stop crying. Not 5 minutes after I clicked published on the last post, my good friend Ryan called to book a trip out here. And while talking to him, your sister called. I switched over, and she was calling to wish me good luck tomorrow on my first day teaching. She said that the love that you and I shared will radiate in the room, and become the bond that connects me to my students. She said that you'd be there, watching over us, helping and guiding and being an angel.

So now I'm sitting here, bawling, amazed at how even after death, you are there for me to pull strings and remind me of what we meant to each other. I really needed you, and you were there.

Love,
Holly

Dearest Nick,

This was the worst week in my life.

I miss you. I feel so cheated. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.


Love,
Holly

Hi Nick,

Today was my first day of teacher training; my first day of being a real grown-up with a real job.

Tomorrow I'll wake up way before the sun rises so I can get to the airport to catch a plane to DC for your memorial service. I hate this so much.

I feel a little nervous about going. There's going to be lots of people there, people who have known you longer than me. And I know that toward the end, I was your best friend, your only true friend (as you put it), but still, I worry that I won't belong. I know your parents and sister want me there, but otherwise, gosh, I just feel like I'm not worthy to be there.

But really, this goes back to doing what is in one's heart, right? Who is to say I'm not worthy to be there? We had a strong bond, we were so close.

I guess a part of me is also jealous that other people had more time with you than I did. I feel cheated.

Love,
Holly

Oh Nick,

I'm not myself. I'm sitting here, at my computer, finishing a bottle of wine. You never knew me to drink. And today I got my hood re-pierced in a spur-of-the-moment act of stupidity and waste of $90. And I didn't eat ANY veggies today, just lots of carbs and fats. And yesterday? Oh damn. Yesterday I went stress shopping and bought a new Kate Spade bag. Shit, yo.

I can't do this. I can't resort back to old habits. I hate this. Oh my God, Nick, make me stop... I don't know how to live without knowing that you are alive...

love,
Drunk Holly

I knew the second I woke up that Nick had passed away. And I was right.

I woke up a little after 6 this morning after a bad dream, something about the dean of the medical school and Nick and getting the phone call that I’d been dreading. I sat straight up, drenched in sweat.

I thought of calling Ruth, but I didn’t want to hear that he had gone. I wanted to think I was wrong. I wanted to think that Nick had slept well through the night.

Good night, sweet prince,/ and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

Nick had the worst seizure yet last night. The ambulance is on its way to take him to hospice.

I've been happy the last few days. I've been keeping busy at school and hanging out with new friends. This brings everything back down to reality. Oh God.

I TALKED TO NICK!!!!!!

Dear Nick,

Three days ago, you watched a movie for 30 minutes. Yesterday you and your dad took a walk up a hill to the end of your street. Today you took a shower and shaved. And you talked to me.

I wasn’t expecting to get to talk to you, so when your dad said that you were getting out of the shower and that he’d hand over the phone, my heart raced! I couldn’t understand what you were saying, so I told you not to worry, I understood what you meant. I told you over and over again how much I love you, that I’m so proud of you, and that you are so damn tough.

It was hard to tell, but I think you said that you love me, too.

Love,
Holly

Dear Nick,

I miss you. I always will. You aren’t even gone yet, but I feel like I’ve been mourning for months now.

This is lame, I know, but I’m too burned out right now to write a proper letter. Instead, I’m copying part of a gchat I had this morning with Caitlin. (Remember Caitlin? She has that really sweet boxer who was so excited to meet you.)

Me: Nick and I were very important to each other. He helped me become a better person, to see that I am beautiful, to build my self confidence
and help me learn that I deserve to be happy
and I helped him, too
I'm trying to not focus on what could have been, that's too hard
I have to keep reminding myself that we served a purpose, and I will forever be grateful
but, to be honest, the thought of ever being that close to someone again, to find someone to have that connection with, well, I doubt it will ever happen
and I don't know if I want it to
Caitlin: you will find it
and you will feel Nick there, pushing you forward
me: I'm not even ready to think about that yet
even entertain the thought of it
:(
Caitlin: and that's fine
bc you can be complete with out a partner
but you will know it when the time comes
me: I know I can be complete... that's something that Nick helped me see about myself
Caitlin: but you don't even need to think about that right now
that is why he is so special

I’m going to bed now, dear Nick. I love you so much.

Love,
Holly

Dear Nick,

I bought a dress today to wear at your funeral. I’m trying to get ready so when I get the call, I can just pick up my suitcase, drop off the dog, and be on my way. It isn’t right. I shouldn’t have to buy a dress to wear at the funeral of greatest guy I know. It’s just not right.

Did you ever notice that cute shop down Euclid, across from that little deli? They had this darling, strapless white summer dress. I had joked with Emily that it was a perfect summer wedding dress, and that I should buy it to hold on to. She asked who I'd be marrying, Chris or you, and I said you. I never bought that dress. I should have. Instead, I bought the dress I'll wear at your funeral.

Love,
Holly

letter to Ruth

Hi Ruth,

I really enjoyed talking with you this morning; I only wish the circumstances had been different. I would have been honored to have been your daughter-in-law and given you and Al beautiful little grand babies ☺ Not to brag, but I think Nick and I would have had some very cute and intelligent kids!

My heart hurt this morning to hear the sadness and pain in your voice. Oh Ruth, Nick loved you so, so much. He always talked about how you, Al, and Laura were the most important people n his life. I can’t even imagine the pain you’re experiencing, but if it’s any consolation, know that you did a fantastic job raising the most wonderful man. Nick’s shining personality and love speak volumes about you and Al, and you should be so very proud.

Last week after talking to you, I was a mess. So much so, that my mom came from Arizona for five days to be with me. My reason for falling apart was this: Nick was everything I ever wanted in a man. He’s incredibly kind, honest, intelligent, and just amazing. I mourned what could have been. I always thought in my heart that he had to get better; he’s said before that this cancer was a blessing because it made him reevaluate his priorities and take a good look at the friends in his life. I thought he’d get better because he’d been given an incredible gift—the gift of experience that would bring compassion and empathy when helping other cancer patients. It’s too much of a coincidence that a brilliant student in medicine who just finished interviews for residencies in radiation oncology would get the very cancer he would be treating. It’s too much. But I can’t use this logic now, and that tears me up. So I hold on to the memories of the times we spent together, and will hold those forever in my heart.

I’m looking back in my journal, and one event jumps out in particular. It was April 3, and Nick and I were both very grumpy, but decided that we should hang out and try to cheer each other. After about an hour of trying to figure out what to do, we decided that the first order of business would be to get caffeine. We went to the new Starbucks on Euclid, ordered our drinks, and sat down. Not five minutes later, a very drunk man in a fairly nice business suit sat in the armchair next to our table. He started to ask us all sorts of bazaar questions, and it was apparent that this man was in the middle of some great personal trauma. He leaned in real close—I could smell the alcohol on his breath—and he asked Nick, “Do you love your wife enough to let her go?” Nick looked across the table and replied, “Yes, I do.” To tell you the truth, I didn’t get it at the time. I saw the whole situation as one where we were trying to make a very sad man feel a little better about his life. Did Nick mean anything by his answer? I don’t know. But thinking about it now, I realize, wow, this was such a Nick answer! He loves his friends and family so much; he never wanted to be a burden to anyone and always wanted to step up to take care of others. He would want us to go on, remember him, and cherish the life he lived with such passion. So I will remember that night, the way he looked across the table, how he grabbed my hand as we ran across Lindell in the rain, and how the evening ended as so many of our evenings did. This was our usual, bi-weekly evening: It would be cold in Nick’s apartment, so after I sat on the couch, he’d throw the grey fleece blanket on me. We’d sit on the couch, and he’d be restless for a while, trying to get comfortable, the whole time asking me what I want to watch. We’d decide on a movie, or an SNL episode (the one with Feist and Brian Williams being a favorite), or an animated television show. I’d sit somewhat sideways, with my toes tucked into the crack of the sofa cushions, the tops of my feet against his hip and the side of his thigh. If I make a comment during the show, he’d stop the program, and have me repeat what I said before responding. Sometimes I have to repeat myself again. Then he’d rewind the show to where we were before I started talking. Sometimes he’d look over at me. Sometimes I’d steal a glance at him. I loved his loud laugh. He’d look at me when I giggled. His arm would drape across the back of the couch, and he’d lean slightly toward me. Sometimes I would start to fall asleep, but when he laughed, I’d wake up and feel happy. I was always happy when we were together.

I refuse to say bye to Nick. I flat out refuse. And here’s my reasoning. Anyone who met Nick, knew Nick, loved Nick, knows that he is an amazing man. His smile, laugh, silly dances, and love will live in our hearts. We have these special memories that we hold dear to us, creating this common bond. So Nick won't leave; he’s in you, and me, and the bond we share as people who love him so much. So I refuse to say bye to him. Instead, I choose to say, “I love you.” I love Nick, and I love all of you, the family that was his everything, because we all hold a piece of Nick within our hearts.

Love,
Holly

snail mail

Dear Nick,

I broke up with Chris today. It was hard. I do love him, and always will. We just weren’t working as a couple. I could really use a good talk with my best friend.

Love,
Holly

I feel numb

Some updates (for the no one who reads this thing, but just my own sanity nontheless)

1. My name is not Holly; and my friend's name is not Nick. They aren't even nicknames. My boyfriend is crazy, and I don't want him finding this blog. And yes, I know I should break up with him. I was planning on breaking up with him on Wednesday, but that didn't happen because...

2. I got a call on Wednesday from Nicks' mom. She told me that Nick has been acting out a lot lately, and on Tuesday he ran away from home, saying he was running away to die. The entire town had search parties sent out, and the found him 4 hours later wandering down a random street. His mom I should come out as soon as possible; the doctors are saying he probably has 2 weeks. I had a complete breakdown, so my mom flew in from Phoenix to be with me.

3. I have an airline voucher to fly to be with Nick, and I'm just waiting for his parents to tell me when to come. The day after talking to his mom, I talked to his dad, who said I should wait a few days. He's not himself and refuses to see people, even his own parents. So I did what any good Greek girl would do: I ordered a rediculous amount of baked goods to be delivered to his parents' house, found an online company that ships gelato (something we used to eat together all the time), and packed my bags so I will be all ready to go once I get the call.

I am trying so, so hard to not fall into the bad habits I've used as crutches in the past: bulemia, over-eating, obsessive working out, stress shopping. I'm trying to write down my thoughts, work through my issues and really just experience and acknowledge my feelings. That's easier said than done.

Please pray for my friend, his parents and sister, and all his family and friends.

Dear Nick,

For a few weeks, little purple flowers dotted the grass between West Pine Boulvard and the bridge that crossed the railroad tracks. Starting my run, I’d stand among the flowers to stretch, pretending that cars couldn’t see me through the sparse trees. Toward the end of my run, right after the Victorian bridge and before the bridge over Forest Park Avenue, I’d change the song to “1, 2, 3, 4” by Feist. I’d remember sitting on your couch, you patiently fast-forwarding to when she preformed that song on SNL, and how we’d start dancing, swaying, moving our heads to the music. So I’d dance down the stairs, the purple flowers appearing just as I thought I had lost my stamina. But no; I had my thoughts, the song, and the flowers. And I’d always think to myself now wonderful it would be if you were with me, to feel that flying sensation of running down the stairs, full of life and song and purple flowers.

Love,
Holly

Dear Nick,

This whole “living in the same city as my boyfriend” thing is not going well. He doesn’t understand that I need o establish myself here. I’m not here as his girlfriend; I’m here as ME. I need my own friends and my own time. My life doesn’t revolve around watching him do projects around his house. If I’m going to sit around and do nothing, I’m going to do it at my own place. And just because I live here doesn’t mean that he can “stop by” whenever he wants and demand I drop what I’m doing to do whatever he wants me to do.

The intimacy sucks. We don’t get along. Why can’t I just break up with him?!?

A part of me is holding out until you are better, so I can say, “Hey, Chris, I’m leaving you for Nick.”

Love,
Holly

weekend recap

Dear Nick,

This weekend has been okay. Friday, Chris and I went to the house of one of his coworkers for a BBQ. Saturday I worked a very long shift and then went out a bar to see a band whose drummer I know (sorta). Today I worked another long day. I’ve kept busy, which keeps me from thinking too much. But, I’ve been eating like crap and not getting to the gym, so that sucks. This week should be good; I’m only scheduled to work 20 hours, so I have plenty of time to hit the gym and lay out by the pool. Also, I may get my teacher’s editions this week, so I can start planning my scope and sequence for the year. Yay!

I hope you had a good 4th. I miss you.

Love,
Holly

relieved and hopeful

Dear Nick,

After talking to you (and your mom) I broke down into a mess of hysterics. I was crying out of happiness that I heard your voice, saddness that I couldn't be there, and frustration that there's nothing I can do from 1500 miles away. But I was laughing, too, because I was so full of joy to hear your usualy, "hey, what's up?" and "I'll call you later, tomorrow." How typical, how wonderful, how little and small and perfect and beautiful. And the rest of my day has been better, because I got to talk to you, my friend. The emptiness and saddness still lives in my core, but the hope is growing, and the love is burning.

I miss you. Goodnight, my friend.

Love,
Holly

25 days later!!!

Dearest Nick,

My heart jumped when my phone rang your ring tone. I almost didn't believe it was happening! I cannot describe how good it was to hear your voice. I have no words. I miss you so much.

Love,
Holly

ps- I FUCKING HATE CANCER!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dear Nick,

I’ve been through so many emotions the past three days. Grief that you are sick. Anger that I haven’t been able to get through to you or your parents. Embarrassment at the thought that maybe I’m bothering you and you don’t want to talk to me. Selfishness for thinking that it’s about me, when really you are so sick. Sadness that I just don’t know what to do anymore. Do I keep calling and leaving the silly messages that make you laugh? I don’t know. I don’t know. I’m a fixer. That’s what I do—I teach deaf kids to listen! But I can’t fix my best friend. I can’t make you better. I don’t know what else to do, so I call. God, I miss you. Tell me what to do, Nick. Tell me what you need from me. Whatever you need, it’s done. Need me to drop everything and fly out there? You bet. Want me to give you bone marrow or blood? You got it. Shave my head when you loose your hair? Done. Whatever you need, I will do it. Anything.

Today I worked a long shift, so I had a nice little lunch break during the first summer thunderstorm. I ate my dinner, sitting on a bench under a porch-like awning behind the store, and it dawned on me—for someone who tries to live without regrets, I messed up big time. I never told you, face to face, how much I care about you. I never told you in person, “Nick, I love you. You are my best friend.” Sure, we talked about it over the phone, but I never really understood when you tried to bring it up. And we talked about our friendship and how we seem to have this unique connection, but we never took it to the next step. We stood in my doorway once, with you talking in circles about bad timing and how things should have been different, but I didn’t get it then. God, I wish I could go back and slap myself! “Holly, do something!” I’d say. But we can’t live in regrets; we can only focus on the future, and the now, and living every moment in a way that makes it matter in the long run.

I’m having a hard time, Nick. I’m falling into bad eating habits again. I’m really worried. I need my best friend now more than ever. This sucks. I’m tired of bloodshot eyes from crying too much.

Love,
Holly

April 26, 2008

Your mom took her luggage to the sidewalk while you and I said our goodbyes.

“Call me, okay? Let me know you got in safe.”

“Okay.” You hugged me.

I pulled away and smiled. “No you won’t,” I said. “You suck at using the phone.”

“But I will.”

“How do I know that?”

“Because when I hugged you, I smelled your hair. And I wouldn’t smell your hair if I didn’t mean what I said, that I’ll call you.” You’re holding my shoulders, looking straight into my eyes. You're wearing that shirt I bought you, the brown one that you love.

“You smelled my hair?” I smile and raise my eyebrows.

“Yeah, like this.” We hug again, and this time, I feel you inhale, and my hair moves away from my neck. We kiss cheeks, and I feel so safe.

Dear Nick,

I mailed you a letter yesterday. You should get it by Saturday.

Yesterday the optometrist whose office is next to the toy store came over to ask our opinion on a pair of $2000 glasses he put together for a display. He’s cute. I mentioned that to some of the girls during shift change, and Hannah, who is all of 18 years old, said, “Yeah, but you have a boyfriend.”

I laughed. “So? I’m not married. And actually, I have a boyfriend and a half.” (I don’t know why I said this. I have no clue.)

“Half?” Kendyll looked at me like I was crazy.

I managed to get something out that sounded awkward and stilted. “My best friend has brain cancer, and when he’s better, we’re going to be together, maybe. We’ll see.”

“Does he know that?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

Hannah’s eyes got big. “Whoa, what a live you lead! It’s like a movie or something! I’d love to have your life!”

I laughed and left the store. But this is what I should have said. You don’t want my life. You don’t want to be in an empty relationship just because you’ve been together for so long and because everyone expects it. You don’t want you best friend, whom you love dearly, to suffer from brain cancer. Because every day you don’t hear from him or his family (who are suffering so much) the hole in your heart gets a little bigger and a lot heavier. And after weeks of crying yourself to sleep, you find yourself grasping at straws of hope. You listen to voice messages he sent. You read entries in your journals written after those great days that left your soul smiling. You talk to his other friends, who remind you that there is always hope, prayer, and love, and that you need to remember those things to get you through, because the thought of functioning in a world where he doesn’t exist is the most terrifying thought of all. You try to keep a normal appearance, so you smile, act happy, and do the motions, but inside, that heavy emptiness is pulling you downward and in, making the hope and love and prayer that much harder to get to.

I’d love to be 18 again.

Love,
Holly

hoping

Dear Nick,

It’s been 17 days. God, I hope you’re mad at me for some reason that we can resolve, and not that you are so sick you can’t call. Please, God, please. Let him be okay and really pissed at me. I’d rather him be mad than ill.

Each day I don’t talk to you, my heart feels an increase of this paradox of more emptiness and more heaviness. I listen to the messages I have saved on my phone, just to hear your voice. The second message, you end with, “I miss you, I love you.” I love you too, Nick.

Love,
Holly

new classroom

Dear Nick,

Yesterday I stopped by school to check out my classroom for next year. I imagined where I’ll put the reading corner, my desk, the computers, all the student’s desks. It’s so exciting. If you come visit me during the school year, you can come visit my classroom.

Love,
Holly

Dear Nick,

I miss you, of course. It’s been 15 days since we’ve talked. God, I miss you.

You’d be proud of me—I was social this weekend. On Friday, I went to lunch with that trainer who has a crush on me. He knows I have a boyfriend and that we went just as friends, although that didn’t stop him from paying, trying to flirt, and kissing my cheek before he left. Augh.

Last night I went out with some co-workers from the toy store. We went to this place they called a club, but I’d call a bar with live music. You’d love it. The crowd was very diverse—punks mingling with preps, hood rats and old bikers. The band covered great music, from Weezer to Sublime to Tool. And I danced! We played darts, and although my first game was bad, the subsequent games were quite good. When you come to visit, we are definitely going there.

Today we went to a BBQ at the house of some of Chris’s friends. Afterward, we had book club, but I didn’t read the book, just the sparknotes. (Actually, not only did I not read the book, I didn’t even buy the right book. Oh well, I’ll participate more next time, because the next book is Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Yay!)

Today a lady at mass fainted and an ambulance came during the homily. I was really pissed off, because Father Eddie did absolutely nothing to acknowledge it during the prayers of the faithful. I thought that was very disrespectful toward that woman, her family, and all the people who rushed to help her. Even worse, the homily was about helping people out of the goodness of one’s heart.

I rented the first season, first disc of both 30 Rock and The Riches. Both are good shows, and I think I’ll rent the rest of the series. You’d like the, I think, especially 30 Rock. You’d get a kick out of Tracy Morgan’s character.

I’m listening to Feist right now. I listen to Feist when I’m happy or sad or I miss you. But really, I always miss you. Always. I’m always thinking of and praying for you, even when I’m conversing with people or concentrating on some task. It doesn’t matter; you’re always on my mind.

I have some stuff to send you as a little care package. Watch the mail.

Love,
Holly

the Buddster

He's so cute, he makes me smile.

Dear Nick,

Today was a really hard day. I woke up depressed, feeling like a giant chunk of my chest was missing. I managed to get myself into workout clothes and drive to the gym, but once I got there, I just sat in my car, starting into space, for what seemed like hours, but was probably only a minute. I felt like my soul had stopped, that time didn’t have any meaning. I just felt alone and empty.

I remember another time that happened. I had just arrived in the parking lot at the school where I was student teaching, and I was really upset. I don’t remember why. Something to do with Chris, probably. It was also around the time that you were starting to act differently, and I felt intuitively that your cancer was growing again. And there was a third thing, I don’t remember what it was. In any case, that time, I sat in the empty parking lot, staring at the trees in front of me, trees covered with a light powdering of snow that looked so beautiful that I couldn’t believe my feelings were so ugly.

Today was the same. I sat, staring at these beautiful, green trees, gently swaying in the wind, and felt hollow. I was so lonely. So alone. So miserable.

My workout was interrupted, repeatedly, by the trainer who has a crush on me. I just wanted him to go away! I didn’t want my existence acknowledged, I just wanted to feel the joint compression and get the therapeutic effects of lifting and running and really using my muscles! Just leave me alone, I wanted to scream. Don’t you see that I’m not myself??

I got home, undressed to take a shower, and burst into tears. I sat on my bathmat, hugging my knees, tears running down my thighs. I managed to take a shower, dry my aching body, and climb into my bed. I read a little, which calmed me down, but as soon as I finished the book, I felt empty again.

Five months ago, I would have gone to your apartment and things would have been immediately better by just being with you. But that was a lifetime ago, wasn’t it?

The day has gotten somewhat better, although I still feel wounded. I went to the movie store, took Buddy on a walk, and talked to some good friends. I left you a message, too. It’s a cheery message, because I love you.

Love,
Holly

random thoughts

Dear Nick,

Walking out from the locker room at the gym, I was stopped by a trainer I had met my first day. We talked for a while, after which he gave me his card, pointed out his cell number, and suggested we get together for lunch. I can’t remember the last time a guy sought me out to give me his number. I needed that.

Sitting here, not two minutes ago, I realized that I’ve become the woman I had always wanted to be. I’m living on my own in a cute apartment with the sweetest dog. I have friends who care about me, no matter where I am in the country. I take care of my body and take pride in my appearance. And, according to my uncle, I have a shining personality.

Oh my God. For the first time, I get what you’ve trying to tell me. I’m a good person. I’m beautiful. I need to love myself. Remember the night of the Duke vs UNC game, when afterward we went to that bar downtown? I had spent the entire day babysitting and felt so out of place, but you told me that I was the most beautiful girl there, the best girl there. Thank you for that. Thank you for that night; it’s one of my favorite memories of our friendship.

Love,
Holly

Dear Nick,

I miss you. Your dad called Emily yesterday and said that you’re okay, but very, very tired. I am so sorry. I wish I could do something. I wish I could crawl into your bed, curl up next to you, and take it all away—the pain, the fear, the cancer. But I can’t. I’m 1500 miles away, so instead, I pray. I pray all day. If I’m not talking, I’m praying. It’s a constant stream of words to God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, Mary, St. Peregrine, and all the angels and saints.

In my heart, I know you’ll get better. The cancer won’t go away, but it’ll be controlled. You’ve said before that this cancer was a blessing because it made you reevaluate your priorities and take a good look at the friends in your life. I know you’ll get better because you’ve been given an incredible gift—the gift of experience that will bring compassion and empathy when helping other cancer patients. It’s too much of a coincidence that the top student in a medical class who just finished interviews for residencies in radiation oncology would get the very cancer he would be treating. It’s too much. God has a reason for all this. I don’t understand His ways, but all I can think is, you’ve been given this experience to make you the best doctor ever. Period. You will understand your patients’ fears and pains with an insight that no other doctor can.

Love,
Holly

April Third

Dear Nick,

April third was a rough night, a turning point, really. We got home late, but I stayed up even later, writing. This is what I wrote. It's not the whole night, but it's a good start.

Love,
Holly

I knock on his door. He has the phone to his ear, but I still talk.

“Two weeks? You won’t be back for the concert.”

“Holly’s here. Yeah, thanks for cleaning my apartment.”

“Tell you sister I say hi,” I said.

“She says hi. Lola says hi back. She says thanks for the cupcakes. Oh wait, for the cupcake offer. She says you’re kind.”

“I’m mad at you. I’m really mad.”

“I’ve got to go. Thanks for everything.”

“Come over when you’re off the phone. I’m really upset.”

I go down the stairs to my apartment. Goose throws his head back and howls when I come in, but he forgot to use his voice. He’s a silent, muted dog. I can’t wait around for Nick. I have to be doing something. I empty the dishwasher. That takes three minutes. I make my bed; another three minutes. The door’s unlocked, he knows to just come in. I start a movie, a German movie whose plot is too complex for Nick to understand right now. He’ll suggest that we stay and watch it, and I’ll say it’s too complicated for him to catch up on. A subtle dig.

Twenty minutes later and he’s not here. I call him.

“Where are you?” he asks.

“Are you coming here?”

“Are you coming down?”

“I’m down. You’re up. Are you coming or not?”

“You’re really mad about what I said yesterday, aren’t you?”

“Should I be? I’m not mad about yesterday. I’m mad about right now.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Two minutes later he’s here. He’s wearing different pajama pants. They’re blue and too small. The steroids are making him fat. His butt pulls at the fabric, rounds out the seams. He comes in and goes straight for the thermostat.

“Is it hot in here?”

“Not really. I’m fine.”

“Mind if I change it?”

He’s already turning the AC on, so I don’t bother to answer.

“I’m really mad. Two weeks? You’ll miss the concert.”

“I’ll be back. When’s the concert?”

“A week from Saturday.”

“Oh, I should be back before then. What’s today?”

“April third.”

“When’s the concert?”

“The twelfth.”

“I’ll be back.” He gets on the computer and logs on to his email’s calendar. “Look at all this shit. Look at this. So much stuff, there’s so much going on. Life is too busy. How can I get anything done with all this life in the way? There’s so much. Last week was crazy. Look at that, appointments every day. I have to put life on hold.”

“That’s the past. You don’t have much coming up.”

“Look. A weekend bachelor party in LA I’m missing. Another in Las Vegas. Two weddings. Doctor’s appointments. Basketball, concerts, appointments.”

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I’m in a bad mood. I’m sorry. I’m grumpy. I just woke up.”

“I’m grumpy too. PMS sucks.”

He’s silent for a minute, looking out the window. I have a view of the downtown, with city lights edging the street leading to more lights in the distance.

“If we’re both grumpy we probably shouldn’t hang out. We aren’t helping each other.”

“I’ll get over it. I’m grumpy because I can’t get mad if you miss the concert because you are sick and that’s not under your control. I can’t get mad because you have a good reason to not be here. I’m grumpy because you are sick and it screws things up.”

“I need to get out of here.”

“I know.”

“I hate it here. I hate the city. No offense, but I have no reason to be here. It’s so ugly. At home, you open the windows, and,” he takes a deep breath, acting out opening the windows. “And everything is green and covered with flowers. And the birds sing. The birds sing. It’s beautiful.”

“This city isn’t that bad. Right now it sucks, but it’s pretty sometimes.”

“I need to go on a walk.” He looks at his reflection in the mirror. “I’m getting so fat.” He goes into my bathroom and I hear him step on the scale. “I’ve gained five pounds.”

“It’s raining outside. We can’t go on a walk. It’s cold and rainy.”

“Want to walk side-by-side on the treadmills in the gym?”

“Not really. If I’m going to work out, I’m going to work out. Want to get dinner or see a movie?”

“Yeah, what’s playing?”

We look up movie times at the theater across the street. There are a few good leads.

“I’m tired. I need caffeine.”

“Starbucks?” I suggest.

“I need to change,” he says.

He leaves to change, and I tell him I’ll be up in a few minutes. I throw on a pair of polka-dot galoshes over my yoga pants and a big gray sweater that falls off my shoulder. I go up to his place. The door’s unlocked. It’s always unlocked when he’s expecting me.

“I’m in the closet. I don’t know what to wear.”

“You’re in jeans? I didn’t know we were wearing real clothes.”

“They’re just jeans. I don’t know what to wear.” He’s holding an argyle sweater.

“Wear that. It’s nice.”

“Do you have any argyle? We could match.”

“No, I don’t own anything argyle.”

“Not even socks?”

“Not even socks.”

“Come in. Pick something out.”

“Your closet’s a bit small for the two of us.”

“Oh yeah.” He steps further into the closet.

“Just wear the argyle. It matches your gray shirt. I need to change if you’re going to wear real clothes.”

“You look great.”

“Thanks.”

He finishes getting ready and we go back to my place. On the way down he starts talking about the a cappella group he was in while at undergrad. He can’t remember the name.

“Speak of the Dark? That doesn’t make sense. Speak of the… speak of the… I don’t remember. Dark? Everything was Blue Devils. That was the mascot, the Blue Devil.”

“We didn’t have a mascot. We had the color blue.”

“Where did you go again?”

“TheBadPlace. You know that, Nick.”

“Oh yeah, I know that.”

“Speak of the Devil?”

“Yeah, that’s it. How did you know?”

“Lucky guess.”

Goose growls at Nick when I open the door. I go into my room to change into jeans. When I come out, Nick’s found the website for his old a cappella group.

“I arranged this song,” he says as he pushes play.

“I love that song. It reminds me of this guy I dated in undergrad.”

“This part is me,” he says. “Not the solo. The second part.” He points in the air, directing the voices.

“I love it,” I say.

“I miss music.”

“Me too.”

He looks around youtube, looking for video of the group.

“I should play my cello for you,” I suggest.

“I’d like that.”

I get the cello out of my room and start to tune the strings. I haven’t played in six months, at least. A few years ago the A string broke as I was tuning it and the string whipped around to lash my neck. I’m still scared of tuning the A. I hold the body close to me, the wood pressed against my thighs as I slowly adjust the pegs, plucking the taught strings to check their pitch.

“Hold this,” I say, passing him the cello. I get the case from my room and remove the bow. Despite neglect, the bow still has enough rosin, so I tighten it, take the cello from Nick, and play a two octave scale.

“That was great,” he says.

“It sucked. I suck. It’s been at least six months.”

“You missed a note, but it was still great. You’re great.”

“Thanks. Want to play?”

I pass him the cello and he sits down.

“You need to scoot to the edge of the chair. Not that far.” I adjust the way the cello sits between his legs. He grabs the bow and he glides it across the strings.

Dear Nick,

My favorite uncle is in town for my cousin’s graduation from basic training. Last night we had a 2-hour heart-to-heart about life, love, and being honest with yourself.

Yesterday was hard. Chris and I got in a huge fight. I can’t be with him, but I can’t make myself end it. I know I need to; I’m not happy.

I’m scared that I haven’t heard from you since Saturday. You phone was off for three days, and you aren’t returning my call. I even called the house yesterday. Melissa says no news is good news, but God, I’m scared.

Love,
Holly

PMSing and listening to Feist

Dear Nick,

Hi. I miss you. It’s Tuesday, and I haven’t talked to you since Saturday, and your phone is going straight to messages, and your mailbox is full, and I sent you a postcard the other day so you should probably get it tomorrow so call me, okay?

Today was a long day at work. It went from being crazy busy to completely empty, and then crazy busy, and so on and so forth. And I’m still wicked sunburnt and I’m getting fat. I’ve not been good with my eating habits. Or working out. I went to the gym this morning, so that’s good. I’ll go again tomorrow, and the day after, etc. to get back into a good routine. I don’t want to be fat when we see each other again!

So, my mom complained to my brother for a long time about how I need to break up with Chris, how he doesn’t respect or understand me, how he’s so self-absorbed.

Caitlin is having problems with her boyfriend. She thinks she’s falling in love with him. This is what I told her.
I'm going to quote William Blake and say, "we are here to learn to endure the beams of love."
endure being the key word
it emplies struggle, movement
forward motion
the future
a future that is above the present level
but then beams imply light
which makes itself into all situations
so love has ups and downs, but it gets into each situation in it's own way, and sometimes it's a pain in the ass

I’m so bloated.

Love,
Holly

quotes

Dear Nick,

I just finished reading Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith by Anne Lamott. I really enjoyed it, and there are some quotes I want to share. Some are more for you, some are more for me.

"Sometimes grief looks like narcolepsy."

Quoting Blake: "We are here to learn to endure the beams of love."

"When a lot of things start going wrong al at once, it is to protect something big and lovely that is trying to get itself born, and that this something needs for you to be distracted so that it can be born as perfectly as possible."

"Grace is having a commitment to--or at least an acceptance of-- being ineffective and foolish."

"Sometimes when you need to feel the all-embracing nature of God, paradoxically you need to hang out in the ordinariness, in daily ritual and comfort."

"Awareness is about learning to keep yourself company."

I don't exactly why they spoke to me, but they did.

love,
Holly

first day alone in the new apartment

Dear Nick,

Today, my heart hurts. I took my mom to the airport, and for the first time, I’m by myself in my new apartment. I went for a run, but it was hot and humid and I didn’t make it very far before feeling like my lungs were going to sweat themselves out of my skin.

I’m nervous and scared. I love my friends so much, I don’t know if I want to make more friends. But I’m lonely.

I miss you. Have a great Sunday and call me sometime, k?

Love,
Holly

day of suprises!

Dear Nick,

You sounded good today! I wasn’t expecting you to answer the phone, but you did, and gosh, you were your silly old self. I miss that! Also, I was so happy to talk to you and your mom on Tuesday, and your dad on Thursday. I love your family. Gosh, talking to you makes my day better; my soul is happier and more peaceful.

Today my mom and I went bird watching. You know, that’s sooo my thing (sarcasm, extreme.) I was wearing a cute dress and my favorite blue heels and didn’t feel like changing, so I went like that. I’m sure I looked like a fish out of water.

I sent you a picture from one of the missions we went to. It was very beautiful, so serene and completely secluded from the city. You should be getting a postcard of the other place we went to; it’s an old aqueduct built in 1740. These are just two of the stops along the mission trail. There’s a bike path that connects them, and maybe when you’re feeling better and come to visit, we can bike it. What do you think?

Afterward, mom and I went to lunch at this really cute restaurant that serves amazing food. Not 10 minutes after we got there, who should walk in, but Tommy Lee Jones and his wife! I was flabbergasted! I tried to be discrete telling my mom, but she was being a pill and refused to lean in close to me and told me to wait until later. What a pain in the ass. So I whispered it as quietly as I could. She spent the rest of the lunch eavesdropping. I couldn’t, because his voice is relatively low pitch. Other families came in and noticed him too, which confirmed that yes, I was right, it was in fact Tommy Lee Jones. So cool. Oh, and his wife is beautiful. Not made-up, plastic Hollywood, but natural and subdued, with the most beautiful, radiant skin I’ve ever seen. I wish you had been there!

Chris came over tonight. Gosh, it’s so awkward. I can’t get the courage to end it, but I know it’s coming. He knows too.

I miss you. Get better! I’m praying so hard my heart hurts.

Love,
Marion

moved in

Dear Nick,

I’m in my new apartment now. It’s cute.

The drive here was OK, pretty non-eventful. Goose was a good boy and my mom didn’t drive me too crazy. My new place is on the second floor, and there’s no elevator. My neighbors are nice and helped move the heavy stuff.

Yesterday I started bawling after dropping off the U-Haul. I’m here now. I’m really here. I live here, not in the same building as you and all my other friends.

I’ve tried calling you, but you didn’t answer and haven’t returned my calls. At times like these, I feel so alone and like you don’t actually care. But then I keep remembering that time when we said bye once, in my doorway. You hugged me so tight and said that it was too bad that timing was so lousy. It makes my heart hurt to think about that.

Love,
Holly

Dear Nick,

Today I said goodbye to Ian. He’s the cute kid I sent you a text picture of once, maybe twice. He’s the sweetest, most fun three year old I know. I miss him already.

I hate packing. I don’t want to move. I’m sad that I won’t be in the same building as you any more. I won’t be here next time you come back. The sadness makes my arms and legs hurt.

You started new treatment today. I hope you’re handling it well. I wish I was there. I wish I were moving there instead of Texas. I want to call you. I want you to tell me that it’s okay that I’m sad, that everything will work out, and we’ll see each other soon. But I don’t know how you’re holding up, and I don’t want to bother you. I would give anything to be sitting on your couch next to you, talking late into the night.

Love,
Holly

packing to move

Dear Nick,

I’m tired of packing. I don’t want to move. I can’t stand the thought of not being here when you come back.

Love,
Holly

botanical garden picture

Dear Nick,

This is Kelsey, Emily and I at the botanical garden. I just got my film developed today so I thought I'd post a picture. Aren't we cute?



Love,
Holly

dollar burger night

Dear Nick,

You start a new treatment tomorrow, so I’ve tried desperately to get a hold of you all day. Seriously. I think I’ve called you no less than seven times. You called me back once, but I was at dollar burger, and you didn’t leave a message. Always leave messages, k? I save them and go back to listen to them when it’s been a while since we’ve talked, and I cherish hearing your voice, your laugh, and the silly things you say.

I need to talk to you today because after you start your new treatment, you may not feel up for talking. You may be really sick. And I need to talk to you about scheduling my trip to see you before the prices get too high. You said you want to hang out, and I do too. I’ll even bring a pie, if you’d like.

Today was my last dollar burger day with the crew. I know you don’t like dollar burger day or that particular bar, but it’s the one day a week I know that our group from the building has scheduled time to just hang out. I like having that chill time built into the schedule, and I’m going to miss this great group of friends. Before leaving, I said bye to Brendan, who claimed he didn’t know I was moving next weekend. I’m sure I told him; you know how he is. Lauren and another girl from school were there too. And then the usual crew: Emily, Caitlin, James, TJ, and Kelsey.

After burgers we went back to Kelsey’s place to play Wii. Well, TJ and I did, and Kate came over too. (Do you know Kate? She lives on the 5th floor and has a dog named Jersey.) I had never played Wii before, and I really liked it! Secretly, I was hoping I wouldn’t. I suck at things that require hand-eye coordination, but this? I think it’s something I could learn. Also, I was thinking it might be good for you, too, to work on coordination and movement. If we were still living in the same city, we could share one ☺

Kelsey has a cat, and my allergies are driving me nuts, so I’m going to take an antihistamine, jump in the shower, and get to bed.

Call me, k? I miss you.

Love,
Holly

hanging out

Dear Nick,

Right now is one of those times I really miss you. If you were still in town, I’d knock on your door. You’d let me in, and I’d immediately go to your couch. It would be cold in your apartment, so you’d throw that grey fleece blanket on me. You’d offer a drink, maybe even ice cream. Maybe I brought my pink water bottle, but maybe I didn’t, so you’d get me a glass of water. Then you’d sit next to me on the couch, restless for a while, trying to get comfortable, the whole time asking me what I want to watch. We’d decide on a movie, or an SNL episode (the one with Feist and Brian Williams being a favorite), or an animated television show. I’d sit somewhat sideways, with my toes tucked into the crack of the sofa cushions, the tops of my feet against your hip and the side of your thigh. If I make a comment during the show, you stop the program, and have me repeat what I said before you respond. Sometimes I have to repeat myself again. Then you rewind the show to where we were before I started talking. Sometimes you look over at me. Sometimes I steal a glance at you. I love your loud laugh. You look at me when I giggle. Your arm is on the back of the couch, and you lean slightly toward me. Sometimes I start to fall asleep, but your laugh wakes me up, and I feel happy. I’m always happy when we’re together.

When it’s time to go home, you walk me to your door, give me a huge hug, and we kiss each other’s cheeks. You inhale my hair, and I pretend not to notice, but secretly, I love that. I also love your prickly cheek stubble against my cheek. It makes me feel close to you.

Love,
Holly

Memorial Day

Dear Nick,

Today is Memorial Day, but since I'm not doing much these days, it's just another Monday for me. Emily, Kelsey and I had planned to go to the art museum. You told me it was impressive, and I've been meaning to go there for the past year or so. I don't think you know Kelsey; she lives in the building and is moving into my place once I'm out.

Anyway, we left around 1:30 for the museum, but couldn't find any parking once we got there. Seriously. We drove around for at least 30 minutes trying to find a spot. We gave up and went to the botanical garden instead. The powers-that-be predicted rain for the day, so we were hesitant, but it turned out to be lovely. The current exhibit is by Niki de Saint Phalle, whose large sculptures are covered in bright, reflective mosaics. This is one of my favorites. It's called "Nana on Dolphin;" isn't it beautiful? I love the colors.

Love,
Holly

rice pudding

Dear Nick,

I made rice pudding today from scratch. I made up the recipe as I went. Do you like rice pudding? I'm not sure, but I do know you'll eat anything I put in front of you, so I bet you'd like it.


Love,
Holly

book on the brain

Dear Nick,

Last week, I was early for a meeting with my therapist so I stopped at a bookstore close by. I walked by a display of Dr. Jill Taylor's book, My Stroke of Insight, and was initially drawn to it because of the stained glass brain on the cover. But after reading the inside flap, I decided it was too close to home. See, the reason for seeing my therapist that day was to talk about feelings of grief and sadness because I just feel so lost and usless when it comes to being a friend to you, my dearest Nick.

Walking to the cashier to pay for another book, I impulsively picked up the book anyway. It sat in my bag for three days before I pulled it out and started reading. Many of the experiences she writes of—lack of physical boundaries, language and speech issues, changes in perception and priorities—are all things that you tell me are happening to you, or things I see happening. Reading this book has helped me to understand a bit more what it's like to have one's brain not cooperating.


Love,
Holly

movie and phone conversation

Dear Nick,

Tonight TJ, Kelsey and I went to see Twisted: A Balloonamentary. It's the sort of thing I think you'd get a kick out of.

I had called and texted you before the movie, and you called me during it. The message was hard to understand, mostly because you mumble :) I called you afterward, and you were watching a movie with your parents. You said you were going to go to bed soon and that you'd call me the next day. You probably won't; I've come to accept that it's not because you don't not want to talk to me, or that you forget, but that your brain just doesn't make the connection. I find it endearing.

Love,
Holly

casino night with Lauren

Dear Nick,

Do you remember my friend Lauren? She works at that bar you don't like, and you asked for her phone number right before you got sick. Anyway, she and I went out tonight. We talked about you a bit; she always asks how you are doing.

Lauren and I could not come up with anything to do, so we went to the casino you and I went to last February. We were clueless, even more cluess than I was when we went. At least then I had you to tell me what the hell I was doing. This time, we walked around a bit before trying to figure out the slot machines. There was all this new vocabulary and all these weird rules, and we couldn't even figure out how to put money in the damn thing! We played one round of black jack, which was a complete waste of $10 that could have bought many a diet coke or red bull.

Lauren and I had a good time, but it made me miss you even more. Get better, k?

love,
Holly