I had looked up to Dot for so long. She was one of my favorite SGs when I first was introduced to the site. When we first met I was very green to SG life and had barely turned pink. She reached out to me and when we finally met it was as if we had been friends for years. Kindred spirits. Through thick and thin, she was there. Even when we lived in separate states we would have our bi-weekly phone calls and talk for hours about everything and nothing at the same time. I miss those calls. When we got together, no matter how short or long an amount of time in between, we just picked up right where we left off. The type of friendship that you are lucky to find once in a lifetime.

I find my mind wandering to her throughout the days. Little things will happen and I still go to pick up the phone to call her, to laugh, to bitch, to cry. I get angry that she was taken so early. I get sad that she's gone.

I am moving forward in my career and personal life, found the man that I am going to marry, am building a future, and everyday wish that she was here to come over and gab and talk about what is happening in our lives while we sipped cocktails on the patio. Its the simple things like that that I miss dearly. The stupid and seemingly innocuous conversations that I miss more than anything. You never know when you will have that last silly, carefree conversation with the ones you love, I suppose.

I miss you my Heather. I know that you, in your own way, are here with me. Every time I laugh until I cry over something ridiculous I know that you are somewhere doing the same.

Thinking of you always.

xoxo

Bradley

"Prologues are unfathomable to me. How do you introduce a life, an experience, a moment in time with a straight face? They are cumbersome to me because they imply their counterpart: epilogue: the end. There is no end while we still have a pulse to anything that transpires and even that is debatable.. Writing itself, is bizarre. How do you write 300 pages of a life trying to encapsulate the hum drum tediousness of an existence where you barely feel like getting out of bed for? How does one discern the important parts that relieve some magical healing road in which enlightenment begins? I’d rather just say this: I was born, I lived, I’ll die, and I did it in less than 700 characters”- HJ