Dear Al--The Next Time I See You...You Will be Smiling.

I've been thinking a lot about Alison lately. It seems like in the last week so many things have come up that make me think of some story about things that we did and times that we shared. Orange lilies, Air Supply, the red cardinals outside of my window, canolis...it's funny how those things were mere passing things to me once upon a time, and now hold such valuable memories.

I remember when I used to feel nothing but sadness every time I thought of her. I remember just grieving for what seemed like years....perhaps it was. I remember trying not to think about her because it was the most painful thing I could even think of.

She was my best friend. The only friend that I really stayed close to after high school and one of the few friends I've had in my life that I can say I could trusted 110% with everything I was. She was more than a friend to me. She was my sister and I loved her as though she were.

After she died I remember crying myself to sleep for weeks. I remember so many times when something would happen--something sad, something crazy, something wonderful in my life and the first thought in my head would be to pick up the phone to call her...only to come to the heartbreaking realization that I couldn't anymore.

I remember how empty I would feel after that happened. How I just wished for one more day...one more chance to let her know how much I loved her. I've always known that she KNEW how much I loved her. I guess you just always wish for the chance to tell someone one...more...time.

I still miss her, yes. But now when I think about Alison, it's more about thoughts of happy times; great moments that we shared together. I suppose that is what getting past the grief is all about. I feel guilty sometimes for not being completely saddened when I think about her. Perhaps that is part of the healing as well. But what is different is that now when I think about Alison it's usually a memory of a stupid moment that we shared...corny jokes, dorky comments, or some crazy song from 1994 that takes me back to all of the times we shared driving around acting like complete morons. And loving every minute of it.

Those things far outweigh all of the sad times toward the end. The cancer lasted two years. We had eleven great years before that. We even had some really great times--touching moments that I will remember forever that took place during her illness. Actually, they were some of my favorite times. Sitting on her bed watching reruns of "The Cosby Show", eating strawberries and peanut butter, telling Matteson (her daughter) stories of what we used to do when we were young, and writing it all down for all of history--those were the best of times, truly they were.

I've often thought about what I would say if I had the chance to tell her one more thing. I am pretty sure I know what it would be.

"Al, I love your goofy ass...always will."