I didn’t answer . . .

Three years ago this December I didn’t answer my phone, I didn’t reply back. I didn’t need to be bothered. Three years ago this December I lost you to suicide.

We had only met months before at a new job I started. We became friends almost instantaneously. Two peas in a pod, never a dull moment, and always full of laughter. We did not dive into each other’s personal lives, but we knew we each had had our own personal struggles.

You always wore the brave face, always had a smile for everyone, unless of coarse they were on you nerves, then everyone knew. You were upfront, pulled no bullshit, and said things like they were. You didn’t try to burden anyone with your troubles. . .you carried those alone. Maybe I took that for granted, maybe I should have been less self absorbed, and I could have seen the weight on your shoulders, and the pain in your eyes.

What if I would have answered my phone? Could I have helped you? Would you still be here? Would you forgive me?

It takes two seconds. . .answer your phone. Someone could need you to save them from theirself in that momement.