I thought about you a lot the months before your death. Even dreaming about you a couple of times. It was almost as if my subconscious knew before it happened.
My mind was urging me to make my peace with you. And after every thought or dream, I was determined to contact you. I needed to know that you were okay and that I could be in your life. I wanted to be there. Someone to turn to. Rely on.
I wanted to invite you to my wedding. Dance with you. Then I would know everything was alright between us. But that didn’t happen.
You had to go and get yourself into trouble. Drinking, driving, speeding. Not a smart combination. And no one stopped you.
I would have stopped you. Then you’d be here.
I could email you and see what sort of adventures you were having and when you were going to get married. I could visit and hug you. Love you, like I should have always been doing. But that’s life, right? You’re never given more than you can handle, but it’s going to be hard to live with regrets.

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