You'll Never Say, "I Do."

Dear Steve,

It's me, Ariana.

I was thinking about you today. I was in my Lib class, and I realized, "You know, Steve will never go to college." I couldn't concentrate at all for the rest of the class.

I started thinking about all of the things that you'd never do.

You won't go to prom this year. You won't ever pass Chemistry, you'll never graduate.

You'll never have your first kiss.

And a first kiss is important.

Steve, I hope you like Heaven. I'm sure you do. You always liked everything. Why should the most wonderful place that cannot even be imagined be any different?

You know, you won't ever go on a road trip, you'll never fall in love. You'll never get married, you'll never have kids.

That's what kills me, Steven. There are things that I have done already, that you'll never have the chance to do. I, who was only a year older than you were, have done things that you won't.

I went to prom, I graduated, I am now in college.

Even now, I am listening to a song that you have never heard, because it came out after your death.

Steve, I'm sorry that you had to die. I have a feeling that you don't mind, now that you're with our Father, but for me here on Earth, it's hard to accept.

It is hard to accept. It is. There were others. People who were mean. Older people. Heck, I'm still a teenager, and I am older than you were.

There are other people in the world. Drunks, bums, dictators, terrorists, and child abusers. And yet God chose you.

He chose a Hendrix fan, an awesome hack player, an Eagle Scout, a diabetic, a pastor's kid, a friend, a volunteer, a kid. You were just a kid. How long did you have your car? Was it really two months?

It didn't seem that long to me.

I can't help but to sigh. I know God does things that we can't understand. I'll put your death in that category.

Well, just know that I still love you, and that I think of you daily.

Aradne Smoot