A letter to Billy - 2. The next letter, two months later...

Billy,

Can I just say, without being a total asshole, that I'm still so pissed off at you that I wish I could punch you in the face? And I find it terribly unfair that I can't. But, slowly but surely I am learning to curb my anger, at least where other people can see it, or can see my face. Of course, that only works for people who know me, and can hear my bullshit, even on the phone.

It has been two months since you killed yourself, and I am still mad at you, but I never could stay mad at you for long, and my guilt and grief and just fucking blah to everything fucking depressed attitude won't let it go just yet......fuck, man, how could you do that to us? It still just strikes me as a little surreal that you aren't here. Although, I suppose that surreal feeling could be the massive amounts of narcotics I have consumed in the last sixty days, but one never knows about these things, does one? I don’t blame you for the drugs, I was already doing that, but I'll say I have done a steep increase in intake since then. Again, not your fault for being dead, but mine for being fucking stupid.

So yeah, fuckhead, I forgive you. And I still love you. And I probably always will. And I haven't drank any of your scotch yet. I will, though, the first time I think about you and be happy. I don't think that should be an angry drunk - I kind of think of it as my goodbye to you, since I did not attend the services. Well, I could have, but I, well, I just couldn't get in the car. I don't regret it, though. Mick told me it was very much NOT you, and you would have been pissed. I would hope you were too busy getting high with Jerry to attend your own funeral. I mean, where are the perks, if you can't do an eightball with your idol, right? Anyway, kid, it's five a.m., and I should get some sleep (ha!) since I have much to do on the morrow. I love ya, kiddo. Be well, wherever you are.

Love,

Jeremy

PS

I just thought you might like to know that your sister handled this all with a great deal more strength and poise than I ever believed possible. She was strong enough to handle your parents grief, mine and everyone else, along with her own, and never let it drag her down. I couldn't even handle my own well enough to come to the funeral. I hope someday I have that kind of grace.

I'm at the point now that I have to stop with all the bullshit and face the facts. You are gone, and I'll never get to see you again. No more stupid drinking games, no more Dr. Who marathons, no more finding you passed out on the living room floor, because you rolled out of your chair and just couldn't give a shit enough to get back up. I'm gonna miss you like crazy, kiddo. Wherever you are out there, save some for the rest of us.