Phil's Story, Chapter 19

To Phil.

Phil, I tried my best. I’m not going to accept that ‘too much’ or ‘too little’, but in the months that have elapsed, and in all the years to come, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to explain why you did what you did, but I keep forgetting that wasn’t my commission. Still, I’m not going to make excuses for you. I’m not going to try and say that because of who you are, or what you went through, your final action was in any way justified. When you left I think you took a piece of me with you. Perhaps you were the one to separate the wheat from the chaff in my life… and it took the reaper’s blade to find something of worth in me. I’m sorry if there was more I could have said or done.

For what it’s worth I learned a lot from you. You taught me a lot through your life and your untimely death. I learned a lot about myself from spending time with you; so many times it was like seeing myself through a kaleidoscope. If I’m ever on the verge hereafter of following your footsteps, I’ll at least have this manuscript to look back upon, and I’m sure I’ll be able to re-evaluate things to a different end. I am going to write you into a world or two of my own, wherever I think you’d fit. I can’t promise you eternity, but I’ll try my best to provide you with a little bit of heaven.

As for your postscript regarding Angelica, that is the one request I refuse to fulfill. For two reasons: primarily because I haven’t seen her and I’m not looking. Secondly, I don’t think your intentions, restricted to the confines of that final goodbye, are as honorable as they appear. This is a perfect example of my unwillingness to look beyond humanity’s fallen state and see the good in people’s motives, but my giving Angelica any message would be futile at best, if not utterly destructive. I think she knows as much as she needs to, and that you’ve laden her with enough therapy bills (in due time), and that your final aside was more than likely the last tirade of your incarnate malice before he carried you with him to the grave.

I miss you sometimes. I don’t know if there will ever be a time when I’ll be over it, I hope there won’t. I have a lot of memories. Camping with the boys at the bay. All night road trips during god-forsaken storms. The improv club in college. The summers filled with basketball, biking, swimming, and the few parties we could muster. The time you shot me with the pellet gun. And of course there are the late night discussions when we solved all the problems of the world, and each other, over a hot cup of coffee (only to forget about our solutions by morning). There are always the cliffs. The risks, and the freedom that comes with them. If I find the spot from your dream, rest assured, I’ll jump. If I don’t… rest assured anyway. Rest in peace.