Dear Antonio:
You don't know me and I don't know you, but I saw your missing person's report on Facebook and immediately, I knew. I knew that you were involved in some horrible accident. It was a feeling more than logic; after that, whenever I looked at your picture, all I could feel was the miserable pain and disappointment as people searched for you. You were loved. You were missed.
A month later your body was found. You were pulled out of the Rock River. There was a picture of your girlfriend with her hands on her face, tears streaming down her cheeks, her pain evident. I felt that, too.
Then came the dream. I never actually saw your face, but I felt it was you: a young man of 24. You were walking in front of me, wearing a blue jacket made out of a nylon or windbreaker material. My hand rested on your upper back, as if I was guiding you. A large, quarter-sized spider sat close to my hand. It was a friend.
We didn't speak and that was okay because nothing needed to be said.
But after the dream, I was burdened. I was weighted down by the combined sadness of your friends, your colleagues, your family. I felt it all and I began to get headaches. I began to feel hopelessly out of sorts. I wanted nothing more than to find a way to process all of these feelings because I couldn't take all of the grief.
Antonio, your funeral is today. I hope you understand why I cannot go. It will be far too overwhelming for me. In a sense, my responsibilities have already been completed. I led you to your destination - wherever that was - and this morning, my head is clear for the first time in days. All of this that I have been feeling has left me; gone to ether.
Before we part for good, know that there was a community here who cared for you. You were loved. People respected you. You will be missed.
I want them to know that you've found peace and solace.
Blessed be.
You don't know me and I don't know you, but I saw your missing person's report on Facebook and immediately, I knew. I knew that you were involved in some horrible accident. It was a feeling more than logic; after that, whenever I looked at your picture, all I could feel was the miserable pain and disappointment as people searched for you. You were loved. You were missed.
A month later your body was found. You were pulled out of the Rock River. There was a picture of your girlfriend with her hands on her face, tears streaming down her cheeks, her pain evident. I felt that, too.
Then came the dream. I never actually saw your face, but I felt it was you: a young man of 24. You were walking in front of me, wearing a blue jacket made out of a nylon or windbreaker material. My hand rested on your upper back, as if I was guiding you. A large, quarter-sized spider sat close to my hand. It was a friend.
We didn't speak and that was okay because nothing needed to be said.
But after the dream, I was burdened. I was weighted down by the combined sadness of your friends, your colleagues, your family. I felt it all and I began to get headaches. I began to feel hopelessly out of sorts. I wanted nothing more than to find a way to process all of these feelings because I couldn't take all of the grief.
Antonio, your funeral is today. I hope you understand why I cannot go. It will be far too overwhelming for me. In a sense, my responsibilities have already been completed. I led you to your destination - wherever that was - and this morning, my head is clear for the first time in days. All of this that I have been feeling has left me; gone to ether.
Before we part for good, know that there was a community here who cared for you. You were loved. People respected you. You will be missed.
I want them to know that you've found peace and solace.
Blessed be.
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