I am constantly thinking about this exact question. It’s probably the worst side effect of being the surviving family member/friend of somebody who has committed suicide. It’s the imagining what could have been. This weekend, in particular, triggered that over and over and over again.
We would have met up on a really nice Saturday afternoon in the Financial District, and I would have watched you play with your goddaughter. We would have thrown on tuxes and danced the night away at the Gotham Hall, watching Ben & Ro get married. You would have woken up (with a slight hangover) to me asking you to go sailing yet again, and maybe I would have convinced you, maybe not.
We would have been crushing lobsters and steak afterwards on the roof. You’d be telling me ridiculous stories, and I would be disgusted at how quickly you eat. We would be setting up our week and figuring out what things we were going to do on what night.
Would you be any closer to settling down? What would we be planning for our winter trip? What advice would you have for me?
What would we be doing now? I know it would have been awesome.
