The second story of letters that come from the heart. These letters are to a friend that was killed.
I left a rose on your grave yesterday, I remembered that you liked white ones. I hope you're doing ok wherever you are?
I wish I could talk to you again, even for a moment. You remember the way we were going to go to Skerries together? I don't think I could go after everything. It would kill me, it's next week you know, next Friday and Saturday.
Oh Charlie I miss you, I really do. I still sit down sometimes and think 'I'll call Charlie and ask him...' and then I realise that I can't, that you are gone forever and I will never hear your voice again on the other end of the telephone.
I remember it like it was yesterday, the day I met you. I was going for my morning run through the forest and I was listening to my iPod as I ran. That was probably the reason that I didn't hear you yell out a warning as you appeared from nowhere right in front of me, the little 125 skidding across the ground as you tried to keep control over it. "Argh!" I yelped and tried to jump out of the way but you decided to go the same direction and almost ran me over.
Lucky for me I guess that you were such a quick thinker, you jumped off the bike, kicking it away with your feet as you landed on me and we rolled across the dirt track, your body curled protectively around mine.
"You ok?" you picked me up and dusted me off gently. "Y...yeah...I think?" I stammered, my brain still confused. "Sorry, my brakes went." you grinned and shrugged, your sandy hair falling forward into your brown eyes. You reminded me of Fernando Torres, the Spanish footballer that played for Atleticó Madrid at the time, he later went to Liverpool and he's still there now.
"Charlieee!!!" a girl's scream echoed through the trees and then she burst through the undergrowth and stumbled out onto the pathway. She looked exactly like you, sandy hair, freckles, and big brown eyes. It was Ciara, your sister...twin sister.
You grinned at me and winked. "Sorry babe, got to go." and then you picked up the bike and wheeled it off with her nattering in your ear about being more careful while I stood there dumbfounded as you disappeared around the corner.
I saw you in town two days later and overheard one of the shop girls talking about you.. The Fitzpatricks. You had moved here about two weeks beforehand but I was so busy wrapped up in my own little world that I hadn't done the nosy neighbour thing.
Oh Charlie it hurts now to think about it, how you used to tilt your head to the side and laugh up at me, your smile reaching those brown eyes and making me think of melted chocolate. You were one of my best friends, we were so close, it feels like a part of me is missing now that you're gone.
Charlie what do I do?
I can't even bring myself to think about that final day a few weeks ago when I held your hand in mine and kissed your cheek goodbye. You told me once that living my dreams was the only way to set myself free. I didn't understand what you meant then Charlie, but I vowed that I would try. I'm still trying to understand exactly what it was you meant by that statement. Maybe when I do come to realise the answers to the countless questions in my mind I'll be able to let you go.
It's been hard to write this first letter but I'm hoping that it will get easier Charlie. It was you that originally gave me the nickname Chamey. People called us the terrible twins, and when Ciara was with us we were the terrible triplets, or C3 as we used to get called. I can't continue on with this first letter Charlie because it's breaking my heart. It's almost an admittance to myself that you are gone.
And I'm not ready to let you go yet.
I miss you.