10-08-2013, 02:36 PM
10.8.1883
Dear Bentley,
I don't know if I'm setting myself up for heartache by doing this, but I need to do something. I need somewhere to get out what's on my chest and in my head. A new journal seems like something to try. I don't want to burden anybody with this, that's not fair. I don't want anybody to know how much of a mess I am, though I'm probably not doing a very good job of hiding it.
It hurts. You're gone and it hurts. The funeral was two days ago, it's over and you're gone. I don't think I've really realized just how gone, even though I watched them put a casket in the ground and the headstone has your name on it. I still feel like a letter from you could arrive at any moment, that when I go home for the Christmas holidays that you'll be there with a smile on her face and arms open for a hug. It won't happen, I know that, but part of me is still hopeful.
Daddy gave me your pocket watch, you know the one I bought you for your graduation? They found in the ash, just a little charred, your initials on the back like Daddy had engraved. The metal is discolored and I don't think it will work again, but other than that it looks fine. It's stuck on 5:13. Ben what were you thinking at 5:13 on October 2nd, 1883? Why did it have to get stuck on my birthday numbers? Why couldn't you have left work a little late? Why did you go straight home? Why didn't you need to stop at the store for something? Why did you have to see the building on fire and rush right in? Why couldn't you just let somebody else take care of it?
It's not fair. It's not fair that you are were such a Gryffindor, brave enough to try and help people out of a burning building and I'm nowhere even close. If I was more of a Gryffindor I wouldn't be hiding in my room from all of the glances, the whispers and everything else that keeps reminding me you're gone. I went to class today and just stared straight ahead, I took notes and I left. I can't take it.
It hurts and I can't take it. I just want to curl up in bed and cry it all out over again. I have and it just never seems to be enough. I don't know what to do, I don't know if this is helping, but I think I need to be done for tonight. Thinking about it too much just makes me even more of a mess and I have work to make up from last week.
I miss you.
It hurts. You're gone and it hurts. The funeral was two days ago, it's over and you're gone. I don't think I've really realized just how gone, even though I watched them put a casket in the ground and the headstone has your name on it. I still feel like a letter from you could arrive at any moment, that when I go home for the Christmas holidays that you'll be there with a smile on her face and arms open for a hug. It won't happen, I know that, but part of me is still hopeful.
Daddy gave me your pocket watch, you know the one I bought you for your graduation? They found in the ash, just a little charred, your initials on the back like Daddy had engraved. The metal is discolored and I don't think it will work again, but other than that it looks fine. It's stuck on 5:13. Ben what were you thinking at 5:13 on October 2nd, 1883? Why did it have to get stuck on my birthday numbers? Why couldn't you have left work a little late? Why did you go straight home? Why didn't you need to stop at the store for something? Why did you have to see the building on fire and rush right in? Why couldn't you just let somebody else take care of it?
It's not fair. It's not fair that you are were such a Gryffindor, brave enough to try and help people out of a burning building and I'm nowhere even close. If I was more of a Gryffindor I wouldn't be hiding in my room from all of the glances, the whispers and everything else that keeps reminding me you're gone. I went to class today and just stared straight ahead, I took notes and I left. I can't take it.
It hurts and I can't take it. I just want to curl up in bed and cry it all out over again. I have and it just never seems to be enough. I don't know what to do, I don't know if this is helping, but I think I need to be done for tonight. Thinking about it too much just makes me even more of a mess and I have work to make up from last week.
I miss you.
Love,
Els
Els
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