I didn't know you.
I should have. I had plenty of opportunities, plenty of chances. Could have sent a message. Could have dropped a "Hi" on your wall. Could have picked up the phone, for god's sake.
I thought about it. I did. Plenty of times. I thought, we're family. That means something. I should let you know I'm there for you, whatever you need, I'll help. I thought, definitely, I should get in touch. Maybe you won't respond, but I should at least try.
But I never did. Talked myself out of it. Said, no, they won't want to talk to you, they barely know you. Just let them go on as they are, they'll be fine.
But you weren't fine.
Now it's too late.
The chance is gone. I can't get it back. You definitely can't either. Just. Gone.
I'll miss you. You'll never know how much. We may not have known each other, but we were family. That means something. I say it twice because it's worth repeating, again and again. Blood. A part of the same.
I can't even be there to see you off. Can't afford it. Ha, what does the world care if they don't get paid? Perhaps it doesn't matter. Either way, you're gone. It would have been better if I'd bothered with the trip before all this, huh? But that's the thing. I'd have liked to have made the gesture, even if it is too late. To be there with the rest of your family. To fully show how much you mattered to all of us, and to get some small comfort out of seeing how many others show up to pay their respects (judging by the state of your Facebook wall, that will be no small number).
But no matter where I am, I'm thinking of you. You have taught me a lesson I wish I never had to learn. I'd trade it all to have you back. Too soon. You didn't have your chance. Everyone deserves that chance.
I'll move on. But not completely. Never completely. Because now there is a hole in my life. It sounds stupid until you experience it, because that's what it is. This is a new reality. I'll adjust.
But not yet.
I didn't know you. But I'll miss you.
Writer, dancer, actress, mother, me.