My dear Gus,
Our last good day was special. Of course, I didn't have any idea it would be our last good day. Nor did I recognize how special it was at the time. Isaac, you, and I in the literal heart of Jesus. We had been there together many times, so it felt familiar. Yet the circumstances couldn't have been more unfamiliar.
I walked in, and there you were. But you already weren't really you. You were a shadow of yourself. Seeing you there, it was terrifying. I knew it was almost the end. I just had no idea how soon it would actually be. Isaac spoke. The sliver of your previous persona corrected him. I couldn't decide whether it was hysterical or heartbreaking. He finished, and I helped him off the podium. Being the most able bodied human in the room was ironic.
I purposely stalled as I fumbled to unfold my eulogy. It didn't feel right, what, writing a eulogy before I was twenty. Finally, I spoke. It sounded decent what I said. It made me sound quite composed. Yet that was the very opposite of how I felt. I was torn to shreds. I meant all that I said at your prefuneral. Not like all the bullshit I preached at your actual funeral.
I don't know what happened. I just couldn't do it again at your funeral. I couldn't say what I had said earlier. That was for you and I. Not one person living would it have made sense to. Not to mention it would feel like a betrayal. Just like giving you the pleasure of reading An Imperial Affliction. I almost regretted it. I don't anymore.
Our days together ended just like that book. In the middle of a sentence, write at the climax, leaving everything good behind. But Gus, my star crossed match made in the hypothetical heaven that you now know the truth of, I love you. I like my choices of who hurt me. I stand by my decision, and I always will.
Thank you for giving me my life back,
Hazel Grace Lancaster.