Growing up with you was the best time of my life. I believe when we had arguments and fights, there was always a chance to start again and those were the best times. The first time we invented that game, the first time we played football together, when you found out you’d hit puberty before me, the first time you talked about that girl next door you liked so much. The first times were always the best times.
It didn’t happen immediately. It took a while to die. The awkward conversations. The lies. Remember you walked past my house with your new friends. You said my house always looked deserted so you weren’t sure I was ever at home. But I let it go, just the way I am letting you go today.
The loss of you would have meant the beginning of life for me. Different schools with different friends now, I had a choice to decide between survival and bliss. The survival part, you were not there. I couldn’t too, because, you were away. Away in school so I saw less and less of you, becoming a precious memory and a blissful part that wouldn’t repeat itself or carry on in my life from the past.
So now that we are all grown up. We have changed. We have separate social lives on common social networks. We follow each other but know nothing about one another. We are now strangers in the same house where we met. It feels kind of like the death of a superhero. The good times we had aren’t as cool to me as before. They’ve all fallen into history and I don’t wait on them on weekends to save me anymore.
I wish you the best. I hope you will always find room to remember the silly talks, the brotherhood, skulking behind our parents to hang out.
I will always be interested in your dreams, your pursuits, your whereabouts, social media will tell me all about them. And maybe, we’ll meet and talk and nothing will be lost, only a childhood that made us the things we love the most, just the passage of time in the end that was the only cost.