oh,,,,,, I forgot

Hey Debra, It's me again.  I've been wanting to tell you that I am now almost 7 years clean and sober, and that I am now a watercolor artist.  I've sold almost all of what I've painted in the last 8 years, and I only have 3 left, that mom really liked and they are on display at the house.  I gave away a few too, to my best friend, Melissa.  She really needed some pictures for her apartment.  I looked for you in my dreams last nite, but I didn't see you.  I knew when I awoke from our last meeting, that you lied to me about not being dead.  The only time that you ever lied to me was when it was for my own good.  Is that how you feel now?  I still feel like I have no closure.  I haven't seen your grave site, or your ashes, or the program from you memorial service.  I've been wanting to ask you if you've seen dad, he really liked you.  In fact my whole family loved you.  They knew you were good for me.  You gave me a great opportunity working at your bakery, and I learned a whole new set of skills.  After almost 7 years of the bakery, I think you knew that I needed to move on.  Even though it didn't end well, you still were my friend, unconditionally.  I miss that.  I miss you.  When I see you again, I'll be sure to tell you how nice it is to see you, rather than to bring the moment down by telling you that your dead.  I think you know that, but I also think that you wanted to stay around on this earth longer than what God gave you.  I have our skating pictures in my wallet, and sometimes I look at them to remember how you used to be.  Before the M. S., and the breast cancer.  We really sucked at first, but then after some time and a new coach, we became the team that finally won.  Unfortunately, my drinking was starting to escalate at that time, and I quit before regionals.  I wanted to skate in new colors, but in a roid rage from your medication for the chromes disease, you got mad at me and cut up your new dress.  I regret quitting at that time.  Who knows how we would have done at that contest.  It was also the start of your M.S.  A couple of times I found it strange that you would be skating and just fall because you put your foot down and it didn't do what you wanted it to do.  I should have seen the signs, but I was too wrapped up in my own little world to notice.  Can you forgive me, especially for not being there when you needed me most?  Do you come to me in my dreams to let me know that you are okay?
When I see you again, I'll be sure to tell you to tell dad that I love him and miss him too.

I see you

Dear Deborah,  I saw you again last nite.  The M. S. was gone, the chromes disease was in remission, and the breast cancer was non-existent.  We had small talk, nothing in particular, and I rolled my sleeves up and began to help you at the bakery.  This time you told me you were far from dead.  I cried many tears of joy, as I did last week when I saw you.  We skated our favorite waltz in competition again, and you were like you were when we won state meet.  That time, I did not tell you you were dead, as I have so many times before.  You would get angry at me, and I didn't want to spoil our moments together.  It's so hard for me to believe that about 6 years ago, you succumbed to the cancer that came back after you lost both of your breasts.  And no one called me.  I hadn't heard from you for awhile, and even the last time we talked, you assured me that you were okay.  So when I called the bakery to see if you were there, they told me you had died the year before.  I was shocked, and angry, why didn't anyone call me.  You were supposed to be okay, fighting the cancer that had returned to a spot on your shoulder.  The reality of the situation over came me, and I became very sad.  I cried for awhile in disbelief.  Then you started to come to me in my dreams.  Are you really okay?  Is that what you are trying to tell me?  When you come to me, I know I am a lot older, out of shape, and unable to skate the way I used to, but we seem to manage.  I always want to hug you, but I know you are dead.  And the dream ends, as frustrating as it began.  I hope you come to me next week, as you have just about every week since you died.  I really want to skate our favorite, but technically difficult, fox trot that  we both loved.  I promise that I wont ruin the moment to remind you that you are dead.  We skated like champions before, with grace, and with ease.  I miss those times.  Five years of skating with someone just doesn't go away, not to mention all of the years that we had known each other.  We had some really good times, and some not so good times.  I remember when the chromes would flair up and I would try to carry you through the dances, and our coach would yell at me and insist that you do it yourself, with out my help.  I remember the times when you were strong from the steroids and would fight me through our dances.  I remember how I would joke with you before skating in front of the judges to put you at ease, and hopefully take away some of the nervousness that you always felt before we took the floor.  You were a beautiful skater, and when the M. S. took over, it was hard for me to watch you unable to balance and fall, just from walking.  Why God, did it have to be Debra?  She had made it through so many other health problems, why the M. S.?  Why the cancer?  She wasn't a bad person, she had a huge heart.  She gave me so many chances to clean my act up, and stop the drinking.  Why her? And to have been divorced by her third husband who was the love of her life, why?  He couldn't just hang with here sickness anymore?  So he cut and ran?  I know her sisters must have been around her when she died, they were all very close.  I know she was not alone.  Did she see angels when you came to take her, God?