An apology to a friend

Checking my email earlier, I noticed that I had been invited to join a myspace group that was a memorial to my friend Greg. Greg passed away three years ago. Greg was a crazy guy. Crazy in the good way. Nobody disliked Greg, and if you did, then it wasn't for long. On top of that, he was one of the most selfless people I'd ever met. There's not a day that goes by where I don't think about Greg, as I'm sure is true for everyone that knew him. Everybody has a Greg anecdote. He was important to us all. After he passed, our group fell apart. People scattered. He was the glue, so to speak, and we all suffered a huge, irreplaceable loss with his passing.

As I was looking through the pictures, it made me really sad. I noticed that I was in only a few lame prom ones. I wasn't in the senior skip day photos or any of the party ones. I know he asked me to go to these things, but I turned him down for whatever reason. I took our friendship, as I do others, for granted. I was too caught up in my own stupid shit in high school. I missed out on parties because I was trying to be that good, wholesome kid that everybody liked. I also spent a lot of my time trying to impress a girl that I'd been trying to impress forever. I didn't want to do anything that she wouldn't approve of. Thank God that didn't work out. In doing all this, I missed out on a lot. I don't have all the great Greg stories that everyone else has. I don't have the memories of him that I should. I missed out on what was important.

I wasn't there enough for him when he was going through all his problems because I was selfish and I was thinking too much of myself and my own problems. My problems were such fucking trivial bullshit compared to his. I was worried about some stupid girl while he was secretly battling addiction. The fact of the matter is that he would have done anything for me no questions asked. The sad thing is that I can't say I would have done the same. I remember it got to a point that when I heard about something bad he'd done or had happened to him, my reply would be something along the lines of, "Yep, that's Greg for ya." Looking back now, I can't believe what an asshole I was sometimes when I should have been supportive. I don't know that I could have changed anything, but I could have at least been there to listen to him. I should have been there for him more than I was. He should have been able to count on me like I knew I could always count on him.

I hadn't spoken to him for at least three months before he was killed. And even when I did, it was only a short conversation here or there. We'd drifted so far apart by that time, which was entirely my fault, that his parents didn't recognize me as a good enough friend to be one of his pall bearers. And maybe at that point I wasn't.

I don't know what he thought of me those last couple years. I don't know if he thought that I'd abandoned him and become some snob. I guess I didn't really give him a good reason to think otherwise.

Not a day goes by that I don't regret not being there. I regret all the times I didn't go to parties in high school. I regret all the time we could have all spent together; time I always just assumed would be there. The worst part is that what's done is done. There's no way to go back and change what happened, and there's no way to rectify it in the future.

I just want to say that I'm sorry, Greg. I'm sorry I wasn't the friend I should have been. I'm sorry that I wasn't more supportive when you were going through all you were going through. I'm sorry that I wasn't there when you finally got your life back on track. I wasn't there to see you completely through to the other side, past all the bad luck and problems you'd had. You couldn't count on me, and for that I'm sorry.

But most importantly, I'm sorry you're gone.



I'll take it down in a day or two. I just needed to talk and didn't think anybody wanted to listen to me in person at 1am.