Saint Augustine says, in recounting the death of his best friend that “[his] friendship [was] sweeter to me than any sweetness I had known in all my life.” [1] What follows is a letter I wrote a couple of days after my best friend’s death. It’s a letter written from the heart, hoping to honor him in honesty and love because, like Augustine’s friend, Nate’s friendship, while difficult sometimes, was sweet. I thank God that I got to know his joy, but also his pain. I got to see him reach new heights of accomplishment, but also see him grapple with failure. So let me briefly tell you the story of me and my friend, Nate, through this letter.
Dear Nate,
I remember when I first met you. The slender, puffy-headed loner that I knew I‘d have to talk to first before he’d say anything to me. So serious and so closed off. I smile when I think of that same guy just a year later crying in my arms, opening his heart. The summer we met was a difficult one for me. I was dealing with a heartbreak I thought could never be mended, but talking to you in our little living room every day made the days go by quickly. Our conversations would go on for hours, talking about our futures, our hurts, our fears, and our loves. You reminded me of myself so much, a hurting guy just trying to rule the world, a guy who let success be his only comfort so when he failed, it hit hard. I knew your pain because it was my own. I remember our walks together by the Schuylkill where we talked about our eventual office run, “the Biden to my Obama, the Bush Sr. to my Reagan.” We were ambitious. You, my friend, were destined for greatness. I remember when you fell in love and didn’t know how to feel. “What if I mess this up?” “What if I can’t do this?” What if, what if, what if. It was so good to see you in love. To love and to be loved by someone who saw you. I was so proud of you!
I know we’ve had our differences. I was so pissed at you when you couldn’t be there for me. I wanted my friend to be a friend. I felt used and uncared for by you. But, if I’m being honest, I know that we both had our issues around that time. You were struggling and I was struggling, so I think that semester-long hiatus we took was necessary. I didn’t know if we’d ever find each other again and reconcile, but I’m glad God put you in my way that day walking on Locust. The moment I said “hi” and the moment you said “hi,” I knew that we’d be alright. I sensed the care you had and the sorrow you felt about our falling-out. It was good to see you again, my friend. I almost lost it when we walked together again after that strained time and you told me you wanted to become a Christian! Not only would we be brothers by name, but brothers in Christ! Seeing you at Bible study was amazing, and I prayed that God would watch over you and lead you closer to Him. I’m glad we got to say sorry to each other and love one another again, to laugh with one another again, to listen to one another again, to hug one another again. I thank God for that.
As I write this letter to you, I can’t help but tear up because I know I won’t be able to see you again for a while. I won’t be able to hold you while you cry in my arms anymore. I won’t be able to tell you that you are worthy enough to be loved and that you can be great. I won’t be able to tell you that I love you, Nate. I won’t be able to talk to you about God, friendship, love, and the many other subjects of our conversations. All I can do is remember who you were to me. Nate, you were and are my best friend, you were and are my family. I promise never to forget you. I hope that you are at peace now. I hope that God has welcomed you into the halls of paradise. Keep a seat warm for me, would you?
Even though I cry now out of mourning for you, Nate, I cry tears of joy also because I know that the God we serve comforts those who mourn. I know that one day I can see you again, hug you, and tell you about all that has transpired since we last spoke. So, I say my final goodbye to you, Nate. I love you, I miss you.
Till I see you in Paradise,
Your best friend, your brother,
[1] Augustine of Hippo, Confessions, translated by Maria Boulding, New City Press, 1997. Pg. 62.
