I Wanted To Tell You But

I wanted to tell you how magnificent you were. Your laugh, your smile, the way you said hello to everyone. I wanted to run up to you and say “You are glamorous!” I wanted to say “I love you!” because I loved your spirit. I admired your reckless fearlessness. I wanted to be like you. But I was shy, and timid, and intimidated by your gloriousness. So I did not do it. I wanted to. Boy, did I want to. I started to twice, but you waved and said “Hi,” and I could not do it. You were too TOO. A bit after high school, you were missing for four months. Your body was found in the trunk of your car with a rope around your neck. I was horrified, angry with myself. For not telling you. For not being brave enough. I was so damned angry with me. For not being brave enough to tell you that I loved everything about you. Your enthusiasm. Your smile. Your personality. Your likeability. Your prettiness, your willingness to include everybody! I guess you know now. You can read this in heaven where you are no doubt lighting up the angel’s world.