The following was written on my iPhone on October 19th in Riomaggiore, Italy to honor the birthday of my best friend from high school, Stacy Blakeslee. Half was written while enjoying the sunset, the remainder when I returned home that night. Stacy unfortunately fell ill just days before finals of her last semester in college, in December of 2013. Read her story here.
Hey Stacy -
You're with me always, but on this trip to Italy in particular.
On my first night here, I sat down to dinner and was brought a glass of prosecco before I could even look at the drink list. Felt odd, but who was I to complain? I was in Italy!
So there I was in Genova, on your birthday, with a glass of prosecco and pint of Italian beer sitting side by side at a table for one. I knew you'd want me to be fancy first (might as well pretend), so I downed the prosecco while I waited for my pesto.
You'd love it here, bud. I wish you were here to join me - hell, I wish you were well enough for a quick chat.
For almost three years, I've felt so much guilt as I know I haven't done what a good friend should when it comes to your situation. But I simply can't bring myself to see you as anyone but the bubbly Stacy I became best friends with at 15. The one who was so similar and dissimilar to me at the same time.
I was always welcome at your home and I knew that if I texted and showed up unexpectedly, there would be no questions. Simply the request for me to make you a new mix CD or your latest attempt to make me fall in love with country music.
The latter never worked, but right now I'm sitting on a cliff, with my feet hanging over the ocean, as I overlook the marina in Riomaggiore, watching the sunset, and the one country song on my phone just came on. And now, I feel like I need to write some things down.
Kenny is telling me how forever feels. So I'm going to tell you about the last few years.
I didn't know how much I missed our conversations and your support until I was at your mom's funeral last fall and it all became clear. My dad told me to go say hi to you.
I tried.
I managed to touch your arm and murmur, "Hi bud," before looking around the room for a friendly face and walking away.
It was too much.
Too much guilt. Too much sadness. Too many high school classmates.
Simply, too much.
Though I know I haven't done enough, I'm thankful for those that have done so much for you. It's made it easier for me to stay at a distance, knowing the great people who surround you.
I'm not in town much, though that's definitely an excuse I've used for my lack of visitation. This summer I found myself with a car and a spare afternoon in Lansing, so I came by.
I sat in the parking lot for almost an hour before I made my way in. Your dad was there so we talked for a while, but I was very unfocused. The whole time I just wanted to know if you recognized my voice. Did you know I was there? Were you calling me an asshole for waiting so long? I hope you did. I deserved that.
I had this entire plan of filling you in on my life. I wanted to share where I've done well and where I seem to fall short of my expectations. Moments that I have no idea how I came out on top, but over the years I seem to have figured out how to connect with people - despite my preference to do my own thing. I wanted to tell you where I've been and where I hope to maybe go - you know me, I don't like definitive future situations.
But I didn't. Maybe it was because your dad was there. Or likely I didn't know how to begin.
So today. As I watched this beautiful sunset with my feet dangling over a cliff and Kenny Chesney began to serenade me, I smiled and I started talking to you, Stacy.
I told you about Chicago and what I love about the city. I told you about my job and favorite projects so far. I told you who I've dated since we last spoke and who you would have liked. And then I likely made it weird because I knew what your comments would be and I replied to them as I usually do, sharing my reasons why they didn't work out - some valid, others questionable. Don't worry bud, I felt your side eye.
And I told you that I finally found a hobby in photography, something you always had an interest in. I have a long way to go in that space, but I think you'd really like my pictures.
The dusk settled and I smiled again because it felt like you were listening the whole way through.
I don't know what's going on in your body or if you'll have the chance to live your life, but I hope that when you close your eyes, you can transport yourself here. Because I know that you would love it and I believe it will bring you joy.
If there is a God, I think it's only right he were to grant that wish. As you and your family have been through enough.
Emotionally. Physically. Financially.
But I, am here.
Apologizing for my lack of presence while hoping you know I've been here all along. Just unable to be, well, present.
I miss your guidance, largely because you never told me what to do. Rather let me talk my way to my own solution. I've missed that since high school - a lot harder to do on your own I've learned.
And, other people ask far too many unimportant questions.
So Stacy, I've got another week on this trip and I hope you'll continue to follow along with. I think you'll enjoy what's to come.
And if you need a win. Just remember, I listened to a country song and smiled. That's a rarity that was just for you, bud!
Love and miss you,
Hallie