To My Friend Who I Lost And I Will Always Miss

Francisco Moreno
Francisco Moreno

You’ve been gone for almost five years now, but it seems like yesterday I got that call. I remember thinking it wasn’t true. That you were just playing a sick joke, but I knew you too well and knew that you’d never, ever play a joke about death on me. I hate death and I hate that you died. I hate that you changed the lives of so many people, but didn’t get to see any of us grow up.

We’re all so grown now. You’d be so proud. You’d also give some of us hell for making shit decisions, but I think it’s safe to say we all miss your reprimands and big brother-ness.

To be honest, sometimes I forget you’re gone. Sometimes I still think to call you to see how shit is going and my mind tells me you’ll pick up, cheerful as always saying, Hey mama! How goes it? No one else has called me mama in all these years. I won’t let anyone call me that. That’s your name for me.

A week before you died, you said you had to talk to me and we never really got to talking. That haunts me. I knew it was important. I could tell from your tone. You were never serious unless you were, and that time, your seriousness was so real. I’m sorry for not returning your call, I’m sorry I was so preoccupied with other things that I missed out on giving you the opportunity to open your heart to me about something that was on your mind.

Update on my life? Still single, but with some new mends on my heart. I always think about who you’d approve of and who you’d hate. So far I think you would’ve liked only one, but it didn’t work out. Oh, and you-know-who got married. I know. Crazy, huh? I think he would’ve invited you to his wedding. He loved you. I still haven’t seen Coldplay, but will next year and I feel pretty confident that you’d hate the evolution their music has taken. I kind of love it, but I too have evolved. My writing is coming along, but I can’t lie, I miss having you around to read my stuff. I’m not as into writing a book anymore, though if the opportunity came I’d be so down. I’m writing a screenplay. I always think about how you had a movie and a song for every situation. I miss that. Church life has changed for me a bit, as in I no longer attend. I know you’d hate that, but I also know you’d get my point and not judge me like everyone else has. I finally went to Europe. You’d hate it there. Everything is small and expensive. I’m still in New York, by the way. I hate that you didn’t come that Christmas.

Is heaven as amazing as I think it is?

Are you on your knees worshipping constantly? Do you have knees? Is it true that colors are brighter? How about that crystal ocean and the golden streets? Are they real? Do you get hungry? Do you think about all of us down here? Have you met up with Abraham yet? What about Moses? What does Jesus look like? Does he ever laugh at the stuff we do? Do we make him cry? I wish you could answer all of this, but I guess I’ll find out one day.

I know how much pain you were in. I know you couldn’t sleep anymore and though I’m glad you’re ok now and that all the suffering your body was going through is now over, I still wish you were here. There are so many cool things going on. So many things that you would’ve been so stoked to be a part of, but I know you’re okay. In fact, you’re better than okay. You’re home. I know this is just temporary and that we’ll have all of eternity to bug out like we used to. You were one of my bests.

One of my forever people and you still are cause I know I’ll see you again someday.

I know I’ll see you up there. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

Fernanda is a native New Yorker who loves tea, fuzzy socks and stories

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