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  • We first met on the phone. I didn't want to call a stranger, and yet your voice pulled me to you like a warm hug on a cold day. I argued with you immediately. Years later you said you loved me right then. Me? I fell for you in the first minute of our conversation, as you called me Cath in a way that no one ever had.

    We logged hours upon hours of talk. Days. Weeks. Months. To us as teens, sleep had no meaning. There was nothing we didn't discuss, or ponder together, from the logical to the absurd.

    We finally met in person. You couldn't stop looking at me. I couldn't meet your eyes.

    We danced, and as we touched for the first time, you said to me, “I think we have a problem.” I couldn't reply, so you held me closely, took a deep breath and said, “You and I are going to be very, very good friends, and at times, that is going to very, very much suck.”

    You knew. You always knew. It did suck sometimes. It sucked in ways that still hurt and make my eyes burn with unshed tears. It sucked in ways that make me smoulder with anger and resentment. Still.

    And yet... it was how it was meant to be. You called me your twin, your other half, but with boobs. From the beginning you got me. You got how much I hurt inside, and why. You listened. You heard. You never judged. You just loved. You were never afraid to tell me to go to hell when I deserved it, and when I told you to do so, you took it, because deep down you knew you deserved it too. You were never afraid to tell me you loved me. Even if you didn't like hearing me tell you. Which I always did, because I knew you needed to hear it. Whether you admitted it or not.

    Those evenings in the park. Me, with my head in your lap. You, stroking my hair. Sometimes talking. Sometimes not. Always aware. Always loving. Always thinking. But mostly, just being. Being each of our own selves, but yet together. In a way that we each understood. You always knew what I was thinking. At times even before I did. Were we thinking independently? Or we were thinking as one?

    One flawed, stubborn, ornery person that felt things much too deeply.

    Years passed. Our lives changed. We loved and lost people, and loved and gained people. We even lost each other for a bit. But alas, I couldn't let you go, and you didn't want to be let go. You knew what you were to me, and at my lowest point a decade ago, you let me know what I was to you. In words that touched me to heart, more than you ever knew. And you agreed to something. Something no one would have guessed you would ever do. But you did. Because you loved me. And because it was something you wanted. And I knew that. I knew that as no one else ever did. I knew it before you did, because that was how we were.

    You're gone now, and a part of me still can't believe it. Because a part of me was you in some ways, so that rips me open, and leaves me raw, and yet I'm here, and I want to be. I just wish you were here too, to see me get to the place I've always needed to be. The place you knew I should, and the place you knew I would. Maybe you can see me, maybe not. Maybe you know. Maybe you don't. You knew you would go young. And I believed you. Sometimes we just knew things. And I still do. There is an ache now. Not just from missing our past, but from missing the sharing of our futures. As I'm filling in, and finally healing that part of me that always hurt, you should be here too, doing the same. As you were beginning to do.

    22 years of knowing each other. And loving each other. Not always in the same way, or same amount, but always constant, in that it was love.

    Life continues its journey, and although I needed you so terribly when we were young... no worries Captain. I'm closer to being the Cath I was meant to be than you would think. You'd be proud. So RIP my dear, dear 141. I got this. Which means you've got it too.
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