I know a lot of people on this website are trying their hardest to be there for you through RECords and well wishes, but it's incredibly difficult to send love and support over the internet. For a long time (as long as it's been, I suppose), I've contemplated whether or not to write this at all, because I'm not sure I could say as much as I want to without this coming out all jumbled and wrong.
I lost Alec in January of 2009. He was 17 years old and I loved him. The day it happened, I didn't know what to do. I literally couldn't bring myself to do anything, and when you're the same age and in high school, and you have to return to that awful place to rumors and speculation, sitting on your hands and keeping your mouth shut is all you can do, all you want to do.
Some say he accidentally overdosed; some say he did it on purpose.
But it didn't matter if he did it, why he did it. It mattered that it happened, and nobody knew anything other than that. I didn't know what he wore that day, if he told anyone that he loved them, how many times he brushed his teeth, if he was happy, what he dreamt about the night before.
I don't know anything about grief aside from this:
Sometimes, your head stops grieving before your heart does, and when you wake up in the morning, you expect everything to be the way it was before it happened. And the realization that Alec won't come back has been the most awful thing I have experienced thus far.
If nothing else can bring you some sense of peace, know that, fortunately or unfortunately, we have all grieved, in some way or another, and we have all lost something vital - a friend, a metaphorical arm, a real arm, an idea, a lover, something more, something less, something in between and imaginary.
Someone once said, "Those who love deeply never grow old."
I think I can safely say we are all very young here, and we wish you all the best, in any and all endeavors.
So here's to victory ice cream and staying young. May it always bring you comfort to know the cherry on top is there by default.