From Ana Lopez in the Dominican Republic

I am a friend of Persis from the Dominican Republic, where I returned in 1998 after studying and living in California for 13 years. She is very dear to me and so is her family. For me, Kyle was Persis’ child, too. I have talked to her a few times since Kyle’s departure. I am so deeply sad for Kyle’s very early departure, for Persis’ pain, and of course for Craig and Kyle’s mother. I can only feel a very profound sadness for Niko, even though he is a child, children also feel pain. Thank you for putting together Kyle’s BLOG. People like me, from a distance, can confirm what a strong, precious and beautiful young man he was. Persis had told me that so many times.

Please, could you post this paragraph on Kyle’s BLOG? I just want to reach out for his family, young and not so young friends, because even when I did not meet him, I got to know him. Thank you very much. Feel free to write a paragraph about me if you want and, please, if you find a grammatical error, go ahead and fix it for me. Thank you so much for being a messenger, Jacqueline.

“I was going to attend Craig and Persis' wedding, occasion when I was going to have the opportunity to meet Kyle. It did not happen because of 9/11. I felt sad to miss my best friend wedding, but Persis send me some pictures (real hard copy pictures, through regular mail which I keep). I still smile when I see a picture of Kyle reciting a poem at the wedding, which he had composed for the occasion; while Persis is looking at him with so much pride, care, love and joy. Kyle looked so adorable on his white tuxedo, so proud to be there and being part of this celebration. Persis talked to me about Kyle as a loving and concerned mother with her child becoming a young man and going through changes. She is my dearest friend for 25 years, and throughout her I got a sense of the sad loss and the beautiful life we all miss today. When young people and children departure I prefer to think that angels were needed in heaven. May Kyle rest in peace, and may his love and joy for life be with us forever”.

--

Craig, I learned to love your child through Persis, whose pain did not surprise me given the incredible beautiful human being/woman she is. I set up an altar for Kyle during those days, with the pomegranates’ picture (I believe is the Christmas 2008) where there are two images of Kyle and you; and lighted a candle for a few days. I did feel his presence in my life during the mourning. Craig, an angel was needed in heaven.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KYYYYYYYYYYYLE! I WILL LOOK FOR YOU SMILE IN MY CARIBBEAN SKY TONIGHT!

Much love,

Ana Antonia

Announcement in the Albany Little Leaguer

Kyle Harty Strang

1993-2010

Kyle played in Albany League, and his dad Craig coached.  Kyle and his friend and neighbor Prentice Gray were killed in an auto accident on March 31st.  From the San Francisco Chronicle of April 3rd:  "From a young age his weekends were spent playing baseball in the Albany Little League, where he played the position of pitcher and second baseman. Over the years, he developed a wide circle of friends centered on his passion for his neighborhood community, the world of baseball, mixed martial arts and his small school at Berkeley High, CAS (Communication, Arts, and Sciences)."  

Articles about Kyle in the BHS Jacket

The award-winning Berkeley High School newspaper, "The Jacket," has run multiple articles about Kyle, and dedicated an entire issue to him. Two articles are available free online, without a paid subscription:

http://www.bhsjacket.com/news/kyle_strang_memorial_creates_space_grief_memories
by Grace Mungovan

http://www.bhsjacket.com/news/car_accident_takes_lives_bhs_student_and_bhs_grad
by Charlotte Wayne

Hasmig's Opening Words

British author Jeanette Winterson once wrote:

I looked at him, trusting, vulnerable, love without caution. He was a new beginning and every new beginning returns the world. In him, the rain forests were pristine and the sea had not been blunted. He was a map of clear outlines and unnamed hope. He was time before or time after. Time now had not spoilt him. In the space between chaos and shape there was another chance.

I’d like to thank each of you for being here this afternoon in honor of Kyle’s life.  It is only fitting that we pay tribute to Kyle among these pulsing hallways and asbestos filled ceilings, since Berkeley High was truly one of the places where Kyle brought his best self.  Here he offered us his warm grin, his deep-set, twinkly eyes, his wisdom, his humility, and his little-boy humor.

As the initial shock of Kyle and PJs accident has started to fade, the real horror and pain of their absence reveals itself to each of us.  Today we are a room full of loving, grieving people who are coming to terms with what it means to live without our student, our CASmate, our best friend, our cousin, our nephew, our brother, and our son.  We wake up every morning and go to sleep every night, longing for Kyle.

In the days since March 31^st, whenever I have missed Kyle, I think about my favorite pieces of his character—loyalty to friends, determination of will, and thoughtful presence—and try to access those same traits in myself. It’s how I keep Kyle alive in me while honoring who he was to everyone else.  And that is what this space here is all about—it’s bringing together all that was best about Kyle, reminding us of the things we’d forgotten about him, teaching us the things we didn’t know, and allowing the grandeur of Kyle’s life to resuscitate our broken hearts.    Welcome.

Memories with Kyle by Isa

When I was young

the days just happened

and the nights just came

and the light filtered dust

through sunbeams reign

from a crack in the window

where morning doves coos

floated on morning’s calm alarm

carried wafts of world through window glow

peeking in

from out

I wake early

his arm outstretched as my pillow

and warm under blankets

toppled by big dog paka between

everyone whistled in breaths deep and low

and his sheen curly hair

folded in tufts

face nuzzled

squishing nose

and our freezy toes

touching below sheets

huddled feet

one pair

each, half sticking out for air

and him waking up

looking and giggling

we would rush to jump on big bed

“GOOD MORNING!”

But four days ago I lost my black veil

and all the better for remembering …

When I was young

we played in the sun

ran around fanning sprinklers

in grassy yards

with big water guns

naked, and drying in dabs of rays

on big orange tiles

spread out against

grand smooth slates

sucking on popsicles

home-made, with apple juice

and later wait

listen for sounds of that taste

till we

chase down the street

at our puttering pace

down the block

a little race

to the ice cream truck, slow

we stalk

when parent exits house

waving bux

after us

just two or three kids counting our luck

we all got:

crunches, or push-pops, or sailor moon sticks

drips with licks

and always swallowed the bubble gum from the melted

sailor-head-dress

mixed in knots down our throats

as we laughed and knowed

we should have swallowed less

and made a mess

and didn’t detest

when our ready bodies

plopped! in hot tub

heads covered with face-cloths

being cleaned and rubbed

splashing each other

But four days ago I lost my black veil

and all the better for remembering …

When I was young

we hit balls off of tees

we whittled sticks

and stood on the porch throwing rocks at trees

drew X’s on a log

and hit targets when we peed

watched Star Wars daily,

rolling and pushing over spots,

sliding around on the leather couch

flashed shadows onto glowing screens, in the dark

climbed to high places and jumped into sand

at the park

practiced power ranger fighting combat

and trapped me as damsel under:

over-turned couch-cage

bat man and robin act

played cowboys and indians with toy soldiers

packed, while hiding in the office

we’d pretend that we’re in showbiz

always dressing up

wearing hats

tutus, vests, sacks, boas, sequins, glamorous

we tortured cats

and snuck through cracks in fences

always plotting like villains, heroes and spies

exploring neighbors’ residences

hiding behind bushes and in trenches

taking treasures

special rocks, dirty toys, bent

our trinkets in jars, safe,

piggy banks, beanie babies, knives and collectors cards

in our rooms, on a shelf, in categories,

tucked in bed, lookin at ‘em

fall asleep, already dreaming

about our stories

never any worries

But four days ago I lost my black veil

and all the better for remembering

that when I was young

I was never alone

and my brother, I’m never forgetting

Hannah's Words at the CAS Memorial

We were lucky. I cherished every moment I had with you and I’m sure everyone around us did, too. There are no words to describe how much I miss you, and I could never put into words how much I care, but I’m sure it’s been said a million times, in this room—I’m just here saying it once again—that we miss you.

In our own way we got to see a glimpse of you, an amazing person.

You will never fade. In my mind I see that smile, those eyes, your laugh.

One of a kind. Truly.

Always surprising and always kind. A strong, sure guy, but a sweetheart.

As real as it gets, and we will never forget ‘cause you were one of the best.

You showed me many things and I am thankful for every second of it.

I do, at this moment have only one regret: that I didn’t get to tell you one last time that I love you. I promise I will always love and honor you.

To Kyle’s family, I hope the love here will keep you strong. You helped Kyle become the amazing person he was and he shared that Love and Light with everyone around him. I am so grateful to know you and you will always have a special place in my heart.

If you’re listening, Kyle,

I love you

I miss you.

From Allie, spoken at the CAS Memorial

Damn Kyle, I really don’t know what to say, except every moment we spent together you took my breath away. It seemed like life was one huge rainstorm, and you were that ray of sunshine coming through. Yeah, that’s you. I think you left this Earth because you were too beautiful for it.

And I’m not gonna lie, it’s really hard down here without you; you were my rock, my backbone. What do I do now? But it seems like I’ve found some pieces of you scattered all around in all of your friends, who have come together and miraculously become my family, and a little piece of you. And that’s only one thing to thank you for. I just want to say, thank you for all the bear hugs, late night adventures, lunch everyday, shopping excursions, long talks on the telephone, long car rides, advice, a shoulder to cry on, a best friend to lean on, but mostly, all the laughter you brought into me life. I don’t feel whole without you, it’s like a big piece of me is missing, but at the same time, I know you’re there watching over me, protecting me like you always did. But I want you to know one thing for sure, your memory will never fade, you will never be forgotten. Because, how could you? You were unforgettable. I know every time we’d sit outside my house and I’d sing song after song to you, you’d always tell me how it was so good it gave you chills. So, I’m up here today to try and do just that for you again. But before I do, I just want to say that you, Kyle Strang, were and always will be my very best friend.

What Ms. Crawford said at the CAS Memorial

My first memory of Kyle is from the CAS 9^th Grade Welcome Picnic. As I’m chatting with parents and incoming freshies, he and a gaggle of soon-to-be high-schoolers from King are running around on the green. In this memory Kyle is smiling, and it’s a smile of someone who is nervously anticipating what will become of his high school career. What is important to me? Who will be his friends? Who will I be?

Several days later he enters C334 4^th period with a big warm already-familiar smile, and he works with a friend who will leave us at the end of the week. Once she is gone, he returns less smiley…he is concerned about her, and it’s my first sign of how much he cares about other people.

There are many memories from 9^th grade—during class, before class, after class, and of course during his Spanish when he’d retreat to my room for a break.

We talk about books and baseball.

I read work he’s labored over, and work he hadn’t, and maybe even that essay on Danny the Champion of the World.

His father and Niko come to our monologues.

Whether in the hall, in his desk, or standing next to me, it was his beautiful eyes demand notice, eyes that were always searching for understanding, truth, and what is right.

Since freshman year, Kyle never passed me in the hall without a hello and a hug. He wrote a beautiful note and put it in my appreciations bag at the CAS junior retreat. He always showed concern for being good and true.

My last memory of Kyle is when he and Callie come to my room, the week before spring break, to interview me for the video they’re making on “CAS and AC.” I’m hurrying off to little league practice, so I give the interview and have no memory of hugging him—just rushing out. It’s an uneventful last memory, which is why I’m so thankful of all the others. But what does stand out is how Kyle had changed from that unsure 9^th grader I knew and loved. The Kyle who interviewed me knew what was important to him, knew who his friends were, knew who he was and what he wanted to be.

I am thankful to Kyle’s friends—thanks for being a daily reminder of him, his spirit, his love and his hugs.

And thank you to Kyle’s family—Sharleen Craig, Persis, Niko and everyone else—for trusting CAS with your beautiful Kyle.

Message to Kyle from Ms. Martinez at the CAS Memorial

Kyle, when I think of you I see, of course, your beautiful eyes and your open, mischievous smile.  During these last horrid weeks, you have been foremost in my mind, your smiling face floating around my brain.  It seems that people have been coming out of the woodwork --so many people, each who feel very close to you and consider you a dear friend; each and every one of them saying how special you are to them.  Yes, ARE because I still refuse to speak in the past tense. 

I have stopped asking why, why this happened, why now and why to you, why to you and your best friend together.  Instead, teacher that I am, I try to find the lesson in the tragedy, the lesson in the grief.  I can’t really find said lesson, except for maybe how I keep feeling continuously, repeatedly surprised at the almost daily occurrence of yet another new person expressing grief, expressing feelings of separation, expressing the way in which you, Kyle, made them feel appreciated, heard, understood, and yes, LOVED.  I think “how extraordinary!”  How amazing that you have so many, such deep connections, to SO many folks from so many walks of life. 

If there is a lesson, it’s that what I want to think of when my mind questions the unknowable in spite of myself, what I want to always remember is the image of you leaving my room for that last time, saying, “Bye Ms. Martinez –you have a good day,” and flashing that smile that made me feel like, for that moment, it was ONLY for me.  I will forever treasure that moment, knowing that it is what makes you so special in all our hearts.

Rest in peace.

I. Martinez

Kyle's Dad's Remarks at the CAS Memorial

On behalf of all of Kyle’s many families, I want to express my deepest thanks to all of you: to the teachers, not just in CAS but at Oxford Elementary and King Middle School, who have created such an extraordinary environment within which Kyle and PJ and all these children have become the best of what adulthood has to offer; and to the students and former students, all of Kyle’s friends, really the finest young people I have ever known. I especially want to thank Leib and Austin for the incredible and heartfelt work they put into the video. Leib has been among Kyle’s very closest friends since they were three years old. Austin spent many summer days naked in our backyard with Kyle as a toddler. I also want to thank and acknowledge Kyle’s friends who don’t go to Berkeley High, who have had a lonelier time processing your grief and finding support, but nonetheless have found enough strength inside you to be a source of strength for the rest of us.

Kyle played baseball up until last year. He especially loved playing Freshman year. Coach Malik did this great thing, and I’m sure the other coaches do it, also, but I was so struck by it over the course of that Freshman season. Malik worked hard to catch players doing something right. He’d catch them doing little things that usually go unnoticed like knocking down a pitch in the dirt even when there was no one on base. When he caught someone doing one of these little things, he’d yell out from the dugout, “I see you. I see you.” So, I guess what I want to say now is, for all the huge and for all the smallest ways that each of you have extended your love and support of Kyle to our family and to each other, I want you to know I have noticed them all. They have meant everything to us. Thanks and “I see you.”

Kyle would be so honored by the event you put on tonight. He would be honored because tonight is as much a tribute to you all and the community that you have created together as it is a tribute to him. He would be so proud of you all.

Spelled out with hand signals:

CAS

Poem for Kyle from Niko and Mamma

Your eyes are green as the grass.

Your friends love you as much as I do.

I’m going to miss the sound of your alarm clock

Buzzing each morning as you sleep through it.

Your voice with your daily greeting
“how’s it going?” and your smile

Turned our days.

I wish I could have known you longer

So that we could have played baseball together,

Gone out to breakfast more,

And played tricks on our parents.

Planting a garden together and watching the caterpillars

Turn to butterflies,

We passed the days of summer

Your body growing from a wispy thing-of-a-boy

Into a strong young man.

Where did that time go?

I wish we got to know each other better:

That we could have played more games

And eaten dinner together and

you could watch me grow up.

I wish we got to know each other better.

That we could have talked about writing,

That I could have known you as a man

And watched you grow up.

Kyle, we’re so lucky we have such good parents.

Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they

Don’t get into trouble.

We love you  very much Kyle and we miss you.

Spoken by Sandi, Kyle's aunt, at the CAS Memorial

Hi. I am Sandi, Kyle’s aunt.  Although we have all come together today to celebrate the life of Kyle, each one of you, I celebrate also.  I celebrate and thank you for contributing to the wonderful 16 year old, that was Kyle.  Recently, every time I was around him, he energized me with his positive and non judgmental attitude, he always eased my mind when I voiced my unsolicited opinions about things he was doing,  and I was happy for him. He let me be a dork and he still loved me.  One night when I picked him up for a date, he got into the car, and I said, “I got my money, let’s spend it up”.  And he looked at me and said, “What?” Feeling like the dork, I said, again, a little embarrassed and with less oomph this time, “I got my money, let’s ummm, spend it up?”  And he said, “Oh, yah, haha”.

 He made sense of things that I didn’t want to be made sense of like his getting that tattoo at 15 years old, like the importance of his cell phone and his computer and having them in his room and on and using them all night long… I finally came to understand that it was because of all of you and not wanting to be out of contact with any of you, not even for one minute and he insisted on contact through technology in exchange for sleep.  I used to tell him that he was getting a buzz from his appliances and that was causing him to not sleep and he would tell me that he couldn’t sleep so he talked to his friends…and around and around we would go.

For the last month, my analogy of our situation is that we are like bees without our hive.  We are in motion but not appearing to be going anywhere.  But we are and we will.  Just like the bees.  Our hive is taking on new members – I have new facebook friends, new texting friends.  We are holding each other up and we are holding each other close.  I think Kyle would like that.   I know he would.  We will make a new hive, and memories of Kyle will live in it too.

I want to thank all of you for the love, the devoted friendship and the family that you built for and around Kyle.  That was his thing.  To have a family.  Apparently, a really big one!  I have read your posts on Kyle’s facebook, on the blog, and on the RIP sites.  I have spoken to many of you in person and I actually feel like I have a few new high school friends.  Your maturity, your courage and your caringness has stood out in such an amazing way and I am awed by all of you.

I Believe Too.

I Believe in You.

I Believe in Kyle and what Kyle Believed.

I Believe Kyle is in all of us.

I Believe Kyle is Forever Young, and Young Forever.

I Believe we will never make sense of this senseless tragedy, so to honor Kyle’s memory, and as our gift to Kyle, we must live every day with honor and respect, adhere to our beliefs and remember to do something fun every day!  Like Kyle did!

Uncle Gary's Comments at the CAS Memorial

I’m Gary Strang, Kyle’s Uncle and Craig’s brother.  Kyle interned in my architecture office in San Francisco for the past two summers.  During that time we had lunch together nearly every day and we must have tried every lunch place that it is possible to eat at in the Mission, and we had some good talks.  I also (like Jesse) tried to talk him out of the tattoo, on different grounds.  Kyle had the Shema, the holiest prayer of Judaism tattooed on his chest which is not very traditional.  Most Jews don’t get tattoos because during WWII many people got tattooed who didn’t want to.  I tried to explain this to Kyle and encouraged him to talk to someone knowledgeable about it.  Because I was his boss, I thought I had some pull with him, but in the end he told me he had thought about it, and it wasn’t a question of being traditional;  this was right for him.

It has been amazing to meet so many of you from Kyle’s community.  You think you know someone and then you realize that they have this whole other life that you knew nothing about, this whole other world.  And that has been really beautiful to see. 

Meditations Before Kaddish read by Kyle's Aunt Gayle at the CAS Memorial

When I die give what’s left of me away

to children and old men that wait to die.

And if you need to cry,

cry for your brother walking the street beside you.

And when you need me, put your arms around anyone

and give them what you need to give me.

I want to leave you something,

Something better than words or sounds. 

Look for me in the people I’ve know or loved,

And if you cannot give me away,

At least let me live in your eyes and not in your mind.

You can love me best by letting hands touch hands,

and by letting go of children that need to be free,

Love doesn’t die, people do.

So, when all that’s left of me is love,

give me away.

-Merrit Malloy

Leib's Words about Kyle shared at the CAS Memorial

Is there any way good way to start a speech that you are reading at one of your best friend’s funeral? There are so many memories so many feelings its hard to know where to start. Over the last 13 years I have known and spent time around Kyle and a lot has rubbed off. Kyle has always been a teacher and has taught me many lessons and values that I still carry with me today. Kyle taught me how to be independent, how to get girls, and how to stand up to authority. Not only did Kyle teach me by example but also by his mistakes. In a way Kyle led and I followed, copying the success I saw, and learning from his faults. And Kyle would do the same with me in my fields of specialty.

When you were around Kyle he provoked many feelings.  You felt loved, appreciated, and special, but also young, led, and protected. I felt like whatever we were doing was important, exciting, and fun.  Kyle was so so generous. We all knew that Kyle was very conservative when it came to money. But when it came down to the ones he loved he never was stingy. If you didn’t have money Kyle would pay and you’d tell him you’d pay him back and he would say “don’t worry about it” or “you’d do the same for me.”

Kyle’s death is still a very fresh wound and it is still hard to feel the full effect of his vacancy. I still expect to be sitting in first period and Kyle to walk in late and out of breath as he always did and turn to me and say “hey what did I miss?”. I feel the longing to be asked that question one more time, to have one more massage given by those warm small rough hands, one more tide pool trip where we catch a shark, one more late night talk, one more debate, one more group project, one more flawless smile (which was perfected with 7 years of braces), one more warm hug filled with care.  To think that these wishes will never be fulfilled is almost unbearable.

The saddest part for me is the absence, the hole both immediate and in the future, that Kyle leaves in his death. The thought that, after 10 years of Kyle being in my classes, that there won’t be anyone to call the night before the assignment is due and say “Hey can I get that OPA?” Or the weekly 11:00 pm Sunday night calls from Kyle saying, “was there any homework this weekend?” I would reply “yes” and he would respond “Oh yeah I totally forgot, Fuck, is it worth doing?” and me saying “Naw, but you can copy me in morning.” And I couldn’t say that to too many people considering Kyle was the only person who could read my handwriting. And the only reason he could was because his was just as bad as mine.

As Mr. Boltz has taught us, the law of conservation of matter states that matter can neither be destroyed nor created. It can only change form. Kyle has not left us, he has only changed form. He has changed from his physical being to living in the actions and ideals that he has left with the ones that loved him. He lives in the changes he made to this world and the people who live in it. He lives in our ability to appreciate the smallest things, our skill of looking past his first impressions and discovering the person underneath, our unwavering passion, our unconditional generosity, and our strength in standing by what we believe in no matter who or how many our against us.

Kyle always ended all of his essays with a quote because he (and Edward Norton) said that ‘someone else has already said it best. So if you can’t top it, steal from them and go out strong’. So I am stealing this from Kyle’s favorite movie, American History X:

“'We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory will swell when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.'” 

Abe Lincoln

Ellie Cohen's Comments at Kyle's BHS CAS Memorial

        I’ve spent a lot of my life trying to figure out how to introduce, how to begin, how to start-because, as many of us know, once we have the first push, paddling down a river doesn’t seem to be so hard. I hadn’t realized that the introduction to an end would be the hardest. I made up my mind to take that pencil to that paper and be the kind of girl that Kyle knew me to be. So, I sat down but the words wouldn’t come and I asked why wouldn’t they? But, there was no use in hiding it for me, hiding it from him. I knew more than well why they wouldn’t come. It was because my feelings weren’t right. I couldn’t write goodbye when I still couldn’t believe that he wasn’t just away on a long vacation, an early departure to Israel, and he was the one who couldn’t or wouldn’t say goodbye because he was the one who wasn’t ready. I was trying to let go but inside I was holding on to the biggest sin of all. I was trying to say the truth, to say it clean, when deep down I knew it would be a lie. So, I was empty of words and full of trouble and I didn’t know what to do. So, I got to thinking-what justification, what story, what words could I write to let people know that we are all okay. But somehow, I couldn’t seem to strike the right stone, I couldn’t and it was because I was still choking on the call I got on March 31, I was still spitting up lies to prolong the truth. And so I began to act with my conscious rather than my heart. I began to imbibe the truth, force it down my throat but no sooner did that happen would I regurgitate it back up. Again, I imbibed and again I regurgitated and so forth till I realized that I would never understand if I didn’t let go. I would never be able to remember Kyle if I didn’t let time imbue the saturated, the drained, the hell, and the bliss. So, I gave up on acceptance. I took my breath and stopped gazing within but turned and stood looking out. I saw all these people who were just as lost. I started remembering and soon enough we all started remembering.

            Kyle and I became close. We were attached by something I haven’t had enough time to understand, and I find that people want to be remembered for how they have contributed to individuals, to communities, and I can’t imagine what other person than Kyle would want to be remembered. So, I thought, of course he will be remembered, look at how many people he has touched, but then, it became unimportant. What was and still is needed by a community that has suffered such a tragic, such a blinding loss is to accept and to remember. We must accept because people will augment the good and they will diminish the bad, they will bleat the truth and deflate the fights but no matter who, we will all have to remember that pain is universal, that pain doesn’t pick and choose only the family and only the closest friends. We must remember because Kyle was human, Kyle was flawed, Kyle was stubborn, but for the lucky one’s of us we were exposed to Kyle’s dangerous, truthful, exceptional radiation. We must remember because Kyle deserves to be written in our history as do all of us who have passed, as do all of us who are still alive with truth.

            Years ago, Kyle didn’t just introduce himself into my life, he imposed himself. That boy took me and studied every piece of me so that I soon began to realize he had begun to understand and predict me better than did my own parents. And for me, I began to criticize. For a while, I felt an overbearing guilt, a shame that lodged itself to become a part of who I was to him. Before I swore to never forgive myself, I understood. When we love, we expose out hatred because we don’t want to be vulnerable, we don’t want to be naked, alone, in front of the clothed.

            So, instead of sharing what events caused him to call me his sister, his friend, I ask you all to see one another now and continue to share your stories but refuse to dwell on them. Rather, allow yourself to feel sad but also allow yourself to be okay. For right now, we are all vulnerable, we are all naked.