This letter has had a VERY little amount of editting. It's also very jumpy, but I am not changing that because this letter is not about clarification, but about airing out feelings. This is mostly on here because this IS my journal about my personal feelings, after all, and internet saving purposes.

It has been a year today since you died.

It took me for forever to decide how the first sentence should go, and that is what I decided on. Using the word killed is a bit iffy with me, both for fear of cowardice and inaccuracy.

I often wonder what you were like. What you would have been like. I don’t kid myself, pretending that our circle of friends would have intertwined and we would have become buddies. Not because of a sense of superiority, but because I am not going to have this romantic view of what would have been. It’s like I wonder where your music career would have gone, but I am not going to force myself to listen to it if I didn’t like it. Just because we’re different doesn’t mean you may not have been talented. I don’t know. I can’t find the right words to describe this feeling when I think about you, but that’s not really the point of this letter.

So what is? I don’t really know. Just to get my feelings on this situation out, I guess. I’ve carried around a lot of guilt this past year. I still get those weird flashbacks, mostly when I am driving down a dark road, but sometimes at random times, and I get this clench in my stomach that takes forever to go away. Sometimes I get random mood swings; I still randomly want to cry. I’ve slept horribly this past week, and it’s probably because of you. Or, you know, this situation.

I know that one should never live in regrets or what ifs. “Forget regret or life is yours to miss” is one of my personal mottos. But, that doesn’t change the fact that I am human and sometimes that still happens. Like sometimes, someone would be dropping me off at my old house and I’d think “What if I just made it to this road? What if I made it home? Or what if I wasn’t so sensitive and I calmed down and stayed at the DK place for a little longer, or for that night?”

These things are decreasing, of course, though. I mean, I am nowhere near as bad as I was, but most people don’t even know the half, even a quarter of that.  I am not obsessive, I am healing. Besides my amazing support system of family and friends (who know who they are,) there are a few things I must believe to remain sane and become healed as I have.

The first thing is that if the police believed that this accident was my fault, or even a majority of my fault, they would have dealt with it accordingly. I don’t believe something like I am a white girl and therefore I got off. I believe in the competency of our justice system more than that. At least in this situation, anyway. And I don’t believe I am being naïve about that... There were a lot of factors, and a lot of tangible evidence, that this really could have happened to someone else, and it was just the wrong place at the wrong time.

The second thing is something that is more personal, and I don’t want anyone to think that I think this because I view myself as a martyr- because I don’t. But I believe… Or perhaps I hope, that the reason you died was because you weren’t meant to be here at this time. Maybe you were saved from something horrible that would happen in your life, or maybe the good really do die young.  Something that may have happened, but makes it a little harder for me… is that perhaps you died to teach me to appreciate life. But it hurts to think that a life was lost just to teach a lesson. That’s not fair to anyone. The point is I have always believed everything happens  for a reason, and I can’t believe that this was a random act, a coincidence. Maybe this is naïve, but I have to believe that for me.

But I don’t recognize this as pitying myself, as much as dealing with guilt. But maybe others will or do, and maybe I am just kidding myself. I just… don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to say to my friends and family. I don’t know what to say to your family. I don’t know what to say to you.

I’m sorry that I was being so emotional over you guys joking like you normally do. I’m sorry for ANY guilt you felt. I’m sorry you had to stay the day at the hospital. I’m sorry that you woke up on the day of your 57th anniversary to hear your grandchildren in the hospital. I’m sorry that you had to wake up in the middle of the night to hear that your daughter and son were in a car crash, and it was my fault. I’m sorry you spent almost all your free time at the hospital or at home taking care of me or driving me to doctor’s appointments. I’m sorry that you had invested so much, everything you had basically, physically, emotionally, even financially. I’m sorry that I ever made you think it was your fault, at all, ever, because NONE of it was. I’m sorry that I was a bad sister, and that I put you in that situation, when I am supposed to be the one protecting you. I’m sorry that I wasn’t smart enough, wasn’t thinking ahead. I’m sorry I had to make you deal with the idea of visiting me, your friend, your sister, your baby girl, in jail. I’m sorry for hurting all of you.

I’m sorry that your parents had to deal with the death of their child, something no one should deal with. I’m sorry that your friends lost someone so close to you. I’m sorry that I wiped out your potential as a musician, as a person. I’m sorry that your life was lost so young, whatever reason that may be.

I’m just… sorry.

~ Nikki