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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2068565
by Dekna
Rated: E · Fiction · Experience · #2068565
Short story of man writing a letter to his dead friend.

Last Letter



He walked in his house and sat down on the couch after a long days’ worth of work. Not thinking about the day, evening, or night. He grabbed a pen and started to write a letter.

(Letter)

To My Dearest Friend,

I am sorry for the way things ended. I never meant for this to end the way it did. I know I made my promises to you that I could not keep. Although, many times I’ve tried to keep this promises I ended failing and disappointing you again. I know, I told you one day that you’ll find love, a family, and happiness like you always dreamed about in fairy tale stories. I know the concerns you expressed to me as you aged that it didn’t pan out like you wanted too as if the heartache was too much to take or that amazing you job you lost ruined your marriage over financial stress. I told you it was going to be alright, but I had to lie because I didn’t want you stop living your life because everything heals in time.

I know it been too many years since I last wrote to you, but I couldn’t get these thoughts out of my head. So, my dearest friend I wanted to tell one thing that I couldn’t tell you before this time because it takes a lifetime of knowledge to let you know to not get caught up in the “daily” life. As I stated before I know you had heartache when she left you because you could no longer support her. It tore you up inside and out as you turned alcohol for the way out.

My friend, I wish I could have told then that the system created by our government was meant to control us and make us fear the worse and pray for the best. Just like when landed the job in dire need and losing it once they felt like market was going crash to its knees. It seemed weird that it always happens in times of prosper and out of thin air. Then again, look at who made the real deals? I couldn’t help but look at what it did to the world. The pain, the sadness, the hate, and the blame that came across the air. People who loved each other fighting over money that seems to printed out of thin air but controls us with fear.

Now, My dearest friend, I wish I could talked to both of you asked why you first fell in love? What made it magical? And why did you stop feeling these ways towards each other? Was it really money? Was it lack of caring for another because you worried about paying of the daily debt? Or was it when looked at things it was through a microscope than a macro scope of all the things that could be? I don’t know the answer to those question but rest assure I can tell you this one thing you that you did forget. You forgot how to dream with hope. Not crave for wants or the illusions of needs but dream with the kind of hope that love and light bring.

I will end this letter now explaining “why now?” since it seems out the blue. It been many years since we found you dead with a note that you said you still loved her to death. Yet, in last years you didn’t spend it like still loved her but you spent it trying to numb the feeling for her because society says you need to just be a man and get over her. Also, I wrote it to say I was sorry I wasn’t there when you need me the most because I was also caught in lie of the “daily” life.

Your dearest friend,
Alfred

He put the pen down and folded up the letter as walked the door to head towards the grave.

He pulled up to a cemetery with land that was burnt, charred, and grey. He slowly walked over to the grave with his cane. When arrived to the grave he slowly kneeled down and sat next to it with the letter in hand whispering “I miss you.” He laid the letter on the grave and got up to walk away. Then he paused and mumbled under his breathe “I’m dying.”



© Copyright 2015 Dekna (dekna at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2068565