This week, I was going through a flash drive looking for stuff to help Allen with his business plan. There was a file on it called "Just to hear your voice." I knew immediately what it was. I thought I had lost it but there it was. I knew I shouldn't have but I did it, I clicked on the file and in a second, I heard Jennifer's voice. "You have reached the voicemail of Jennifer Ragland Evans....." I cut it off and fought back the tears.
After Jennifer died, I found comfort in listening to her voicemail. I became worried her husband would get rid of her phone so I called it one day and recorded the message so I could hear it whenever I wanted. It brought me comfort then but it brings me pain now. But I won't delete it. One day, I'll be able to listen to it and be comforted again, just not right now. It hurts too much.
And again this week, I found a letter I had written to Jennifer in June, around her 30th birthday. It was one of many letters I have written over the years but I had kept this one somewhere on my computer. Most of the time, I write them and then delete them. It makes me feel better to get it all out but then I delete it so I don't to come back and find it and feel that pain again. It's a weird way to go about things, I know. But it's how I grieve.
Anyway, I read the letter and decided that I didn't want to delete this one because when I wrote it, I obviously wanted to keep it. So I decided to post it here so that I could keep it tucked away somewhere safe but delete it off my flash drive.
Dear Jennifer, June 21,2010
It's been three years and three months since you left this earth. And still, I find it hard to believe. It's amazing how much the tears still fall.
Just a few days ago, your 30th birthday slipped by. And though I tried to not let it upset me, I found myself thinking of how you would have spent your day. I imagine there would have been some sort of party in store and I know that no matter what, you would have made it the best party. I wish we could have had that party. I wish I had enjoyed the parties before a little more. I even wish I had partied a little more with you.
Jennifer, I thought I was moving on and doing better. But lately, I find myself wondering if that is true. Allen tells me all the time that I have to let you go, that I'm letting your death and the circumstances surrounding it eat at me. I don't know if he's worried about me or just sick of me crying. Maybe both.
Allen and I have talked about separating. There are lots of reasons but I can't help but wonder if your death has played some sort of a role in it, that maybe if I could let go of that lingering grief I have, I could focus more on my marriage instead of the things I can't change. Or, maybe if I had you to talk to and tell me it would be okay, things would have been better between us.
We're working hard to fix the things we can fix and to forgive the past and focus more on the future. But it's hard. There are many times I find myself needing someone to talk to about things, someone to tell me everything is going to be alright. You were always that person and even today, three years later, it's hard to accept that you will never be that shoulder to cry on ever again. And I'm not sure I'll ever find another friend like that.
When all this happened, I spent a long time grieving. But through it all, I knew I wanted to do something to honor you and remember you. I finally decided a scholarship at ECU would be perfect. lt took a good year for me to even get in the talking stages of this. I thought of it quickly but actually doing it meant accepting you were gone. In the end, I felt like doing this would help me grieve. But now, I'm not sure if it is.
This scholarship has made me deal with things that are hard to deal with and it's made me need a friend more. But at the same time, it's allowed me to keep remembering you while doing something good. I'm glad I got the guts and finally did it. And I did it just the way you would have wanted me to, by giving it to God and letting him lead the way. But still, I miss you and I wonder if this lingering pain will ever go away. I wonder if I'll ever be able to think about you and my eyes not fill up with tears. I wonder if I will ever be able to truly let you go?
I've started on many letters to you over the years, they were letters that were similar to this but they ended with me telling you that I was letting you go, that I had to stop grieving. But in the end, I couldn't do anything but delete the letters and admit that I was not ready to do such a thing.
This is not one of those letters. I just found myself writing to you. I needed to talk and even though you can't read this letter, it made me feel better to get it out.
I don't think I'll ever completely be over losing you. You were my best friend and in an instant, you were gone. There will never be another Jennifer Ragland Evans and I'm not sure I'll ever be able to accept such a friendship from another person. That's my burden to bear, I suppose, and I'm the one that will lose out in the end. I'm so thankful to have had such a true friend and I will cherish our friendship forever.
Love,
Amanda
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