Dear Gatlin,

I wouldn't believe it if I didn't have a calendar sitting right in front of my face.  It's been exactly three years since you died.  1,096 days. 

There are so many things I wish I could tell you.  I wish I could show you how much your little sisters have grown.  I'd show you the videos I finally had the courage to put up on YouTube of me singing and playing the guitar.  You always knew I could do it.  I wish I could play you the songs I wrote about you.  For you.  I'd show you the guy who actually made president in 2008, just so I could hear you rant and rave about how awful our government has become.  I wish I could talk about a boy, just so you'd get mad.  I'd play for you on my new guitar that you never got to hear.  We were still trying to think of names for it when you went away.  I'd send you my favorite rap song and laugh when you sent me five "real" songs in response.  I'd probably yell at you.  'Cause sometimes I still feel angry, you know.  I'd probably cry.  No, I know I would. 

I've stopped blaming myself.  You'd probably be glad about that.  There are still some days when I think, "If I only would have..."  But then I have to remember.  You were the one to make the decision to end your own life, Gatlin.  That was you.  Not me.  How can I honestly blame myself if I would have stopped you had I known?  That's irrational.  It's just hard to be rational sometimes, you know? 

To be honest with you, I still don't understand why you took your own life.  You had a bright future ahead of you.  You had one of the coolest families ever.  You had friends who adored you.  It was a selfish decision.  You hurt people you loved.  You promised never to hurt me, Gatlin, but you've hurt me more than anyone else has so far.  Some days, when I think of you, I feel a lot of anger.  I wonder how anyone who said he loved us so much would turn around and do something this cruel.  I wasn't the same for months after you died.  You know that? 

I don't like to be angry at you, though.  What's the point in that?  Why be angry at someone who's already gone?  I try to think about the good memories instead.  There are lots of those, hidden beneath the painful memories of your funeral and the emotions I felt the night I learned that you died.

The good memories, when I think about them, still make me smile.  I remember when you started capitalizing "you" every time you talked to me online. "Emily, You are worth more than You think You are, so I'll capitalize 'you' to remind You until You get it.  Okay?"  I felt so special when you did that.  We stayed up all night talking sometimes.  When I cried to you over the phone one time, you answered immediately, "Who do I need to beat up today?"  I told you I'd always wanted a big brother and you immediately volunteered, even though you were a month younger than I was.  I like to think about those memories, Gatlin.  Not the bad ones, because I know we had those too.

It's comforting to me that you were a Christian.  I know you're in heaven.  Are you sorry for cutting your life short?  You would have been an incredible musician.  You were the best guitarist I knew already.  You left me amazed when I saw your YouTube videos.  I'm so grateful for a God who forgives us even when we screw up bad, aren't you? 

A few years before you went away, you told me that if you died, everyone would forget about you after three months.  It's been three years now.  Three years today.  I doubt anyone has forgotten you.  I haven't, and I wasn't even your best friend.  You're not forgotten, Gatlin.  You're remembered.

I feel sad when I think of the way you died.  Of how young you were, of how young I was.  Fifteen is too young to experience death.  Now I'm eighteen -and you would be too- and I'm growing up, slowly but surely.  When I think about our friendship, I'll admit it: We seem young in my mind now.  But I still treasure those memories and I treasure the friendship I had with you.  You were a good friend.  I'll never forget you, not in three years and not in thirty years.  You'll always hold a place in my heart as the boy who offered to play the role of my big brother once upon a time.

This letter was more difficult for me to write than I thought it would be.  I wish you could read my words.  I've never been to heaven, so I don't know if you can or not.  I guess I can tell you all of these things when I get there myself, whenever that will be.

I still miss you.  I wish you had not chosen to commit suicide like you did, Gatlin.  You broke my heart for a long time... I can't even imagine what your death did to your family.  However, time goes on.  Just like I know you would have wanted, I'm moving on.  I'll never forget you, but I'm okay now.  Jesus has been my rock through the hard times your death has inflicted on my life. The Lord has put amazing friends in my life, and I know they won't make the same decision you did.  I just wanted to let you know that.  I'll be okay.

I wish you were still alive, but I'm thankful in a way for the perseverance I've gained through facing these trials.  I've learned to give my pain to God.  I've grown and matured because of the struggles I faced after your death.  I do not thank you for hurting me and those around you, but I do thank you for making me a stronger person.  I do thank you for helping me grow closer to God, when at times, I've strayed so far away from him.  And I do thank you for being my friend those three years before your death.  You were my first real "guy friend."

Even though I cry sometimes (like now!), I'm still a happy person.  I'm going to live my life to the fullest.  I'll remember you with a smile, not with sadness and tears.

Thanks for being in my life while you were.  Lylab.

-Emily


---

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
1-800-273-8255

Gatlin's YouTube Channel
https://www.youtube.com/user/gibsonlovergatlin

Instead of a book review today, I decided to post something that has bothered me for a while now.

I want people to like me.

That's just the truth.  I want to be liked. 

Do I usually rebel against conformity?  Sure.  I often don't dress like everyone else on purpose.  I am quiet when others are loud.  I listen to my own style of music.  I value originality.  Even though I like to be unique, I desperately want to be liked.  If I'm not liked by someone, I'm bothered.  A lot.

Sometimes my struggle to be liked can be my downfall of sorts.  I often try to please everyone and end up ignoring my own needs.  Sometimes I focus on pleasing others instead of God.  Trying so hard to be liked can end up making me doubt myself as well.  I'm generally a confident person.  However, if someone dislikes me, I can quickly shut down and doubt myself. 

I'll make up an example off the top of my head.  Let's say I'm trying to reach out to some younger girls and I overhear someone say, "Emily acts so fake.  I can't believe she's pretending to like us."  I might immediately question my actions and words, asking myself and my close friends if that's how I appear.  If I feel disliked enough, I might even throw up my hands and walk away.  I think to myself, "It's not worth it.  I'm obviously bad at this.  Bah.  I give up.  Find someone else to minister to these girls, God.  I don't want to do this anymore." 

Giving up is never a part of God's plan.  When I give up, I fail. 

I hate the feeling of failure.  Don't you?

The other day, I overheard some girls at school talking about me behind my back.  I haven't been through an experience like that since eighth grade!  To be honest, their words weren't that mean.  They were mocking a leadership role I've taken at school and the way I spoke to a group of kids.  It was obvious by what they were saying that they didn't like me all that much.  At first, I wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear.  A thousand horrified thoughts flew through my head all at once.  "They don't like me.  I've failed.  I've ruined this leadership role.  I've failed at being liked at school.  I'm such a failure.  How can God even use me at all?"  For a split second, I wanted to forget being any kind of a leader, withdraw into my shy shell, and not talk to anyone ever again.  I mean, they didn't like me.  After a few moments of self-pity, I realized how silly I was acting.

Is my life defined by what those girls think of me?  Am I not a leader anymore because of the things those girls were saying?  Does God not still love me?  Has the purpose He gave me at my school been turned into nothing?  Of course not. 

People are going to dislike me sometimes because of who I am and Who I stand for, and I'm going to have to learn to deal with that, as hard as it can be.  Jesus had haters.  People murdered Him and gambled away His clothes, for crying out loud.  His disciples were all persecuted and most were even killed. 

Even though it might sting to face meanness and dislike from others, I cannot allow my hurt feelings to get in the way of what God has planned for my life.  He wants me to be a leader at my school, whether or not some kids make fun of me behind my back.  He wants me to stand up and make friends with people I don't know, even if I'll face rejection sometimes. 

God's opinion is what matters in the long run.  I just need to please Him.  Everyone else is secondary.

I've given up many times after facing dislike from others.  I've failed.  I've let down the God who gave me life.  I don't want to give up anymore.  I don't want to care so much about what other people think of me that I'll give up on plans God has for me in order to keep everyone happy.  That isn't what He wants.  I'm so thankful that God loves me enough to give me an unlimited number of second chances. 

I want people to like me.  That will never change.  If I had my way, then everyone would like each other, even though I know that's unrealistic.  I'll continue to be nice to people and smile (I am Emily is Smiling, after all).  However, I know I will not always be liked.  I don't deserve to be liked by everyone, if I'm honest with myself. 

For now, I guess I'm satisfied with the fact that Jesus Christ likes me so much, He thinks I'm to die for.