Sam,
I’ve been thinking a lot about the last time we were face to face. I was living in my first apartment and you, of all people, delivered my pizza. We talked briefly, having no clue at the time that it would be the last time we ever would. I wanted so badly to tell you how much I missed you and wondered if maybe you missed me too. I wanted to ask you if we could be friends again. But I couldn’t find the guts. I couldn’t find my spine. And in hindsight it was so stupid. I had already lost you and yet I still couldn’t stick my neck out to try and save our friendship and I don’t know why. What did I have to lose at that point? The regret still keeps me up at night. A couple decades later and I’m still lamenting the things unsaid, like it was yesterday. Those things I should’ve said still sit in my head, an endless tormenting echo. Writing them out provides a momentary relief...but without them landing where they belong, it’s nothing I can fool myself with. It doesn’t help me sleep better. If only I knew then, if I had known the devastatingly enormous hole that would remain in my life without you, I would’ve told you exactly what you meant to me, down to the finest detail. Maybe it wouldn’t have changed a thing, but at least the words wouldn’t have to reverberate in my head with an oceans worth of regret.
I’m sorry I never told you how much I missed you, Sam. I’ll tell you now...I missed you then, I miss you now. I’m sorry that I pushed you away. I’m sorry for the years of friendship lost. For not being there when things weren’t well. For being a coward. For not being the friend you deserved.