Dear Jocelyne,

It’s been twenty three years since you left this earth. I’m sorry I never got to say goodbye. Life with little children was insane back then, and Travis was sure no help. I regret that I didn’t attend your funeral. It all happened so fast. Travis couldn’t manage to get time off from work and watch the children alone.

Why the fuck am I making these excuses? You don’t care.

I’m sorry.

I messed up.

Please forgive me.

The last time I saw you, I had no earthly idea it was going to be the last time. When you’re 17 years old and a pregnancy statistic, someone dying of an aneurysm in their early twenties sounds like a cheesy Hollywood movie.

Until it happened to you.

Your sister’s phone call that day was one of the worst experiences of my life.

I think about your mother all the time. She lost a husband and a daughter in the same lifetime; and I cannot imagine how she remained sane and carried on. I tried to stay in touch with her but I think my presence was a painful reminder of what she lost.

I don’t believe in heaven as a mystical, magical, physical place, at least not anymore. I know you did and that was one of your things. I hope it worked out for you. I do wish I’ll get to see you again some day though.

I still have all the letters you wrote me. I read the one you wrote about feeling honored to be chosen as my babies' godmother. After I was done reading it, I decided to write you a letter too, even though you're gone.

The crazy thing is, you missed the whole telecommunications boom. People rarely send handwritten letters anymore.

Everyone and their grandfather ( or more apt, grandchildren) have cellphones now.

Remember how freaking expensive phone bills were back when we were growing up? And the annoying dial up tone of the Internet? That is ancient history.

Children as young as five years old have access to unlimited calls, texts and internet browsing in this current generation.

I’m sure your mind is getting blown right as you read this (pun unintentional).

Jocelyne, some days I miss you so much it feels like a physical ache. I would give anything to have you here with me. Even if it is just to hear you say, “told ya so.”

After all, you were right about one thing, getting an education despite getting knocked up was smart. I’d probably be talking to you for hours about the stressors of being a chief financial officer today.

Thank you for all the laughs.

Your friend for good times,

Your first call for bad times,

Terry.