2010

"Happy sixteenth birthday, Logan."

Blaine's holding a bouquet of daisies. "I still prefer orchids, you know that. Well, maybe on my birthday a boy will give me flowers, but that doesn't matter now. It's your special day. I would've sung Happy Birthday, but I can't sing in whisper. Oh yeah! I'm whispering because there are other people visiting graves and I don't want to disturb them. Me happily singing Happy Birthday wouldn't be appropriate.

I made an acquaintance at the cemetery, though. She comes here often. Lillie, her name is. Her husband died five years ago and she visits once a month. She used to visit daily, but she told me that it gets very tiring. I told her I visit you on a weekly basis, and she said that she was sorry. She heard about the attack. Can you believe it's almost been one and a half year since the dance?

But she has a point. This is tiring. I'm not tired of speaking to you, but every time I get here it feels like a slap in the face. I get the reminder that you killed yourself. That life was too hard on you and that you never got back up.

Your mom and sister have been here. I can see the flowers and painting they left. I haven't seen your family since the funeral. It's weird to think that we hung out at your place all the time. I knew your mother so well, and now I'm afraid she won't even recognize me. I've grown a lot over the past one and a half year."