Ironic

lucky

Two months after Jonah's death and I was still a mess at night. I still flipped out at three in the morning when I realized that none of this was a dream. I still ate my cereal alone in my room because I couldn't stand to look at my dad when all he had in his eyes were guilt and angst and loneliness. I couldn't look at him because I didn't want him to know I had the same thing.

There was no one in the world that could make this better - no one that could make this easier.

But I knew someone who could try.

And that person was Summer.

It felt like I couldn't go a day without seeing her. So I didn't. I requested to see her every day, and she let me. She came to my house and hung out on my proch or stared at the stars with me because I was bored.

She never complained. She never tried to talk, either. I think she understood that I needed some space sometimes, even if that space involved being with her without saying a word.

Summer was easily becoming my best friend - and I had never had friends before. I wasn't sure how to handle this. How many times did I have to feed her? Did I have to walk her?

She and I talked about everything - literally everything. It was disgusting yet satisfying to talk to her about the things we talked about. And yet, she still wanted to hang out - to talk.

For the first time in a while, I felt like I was doing something right.