CAD4-028
Barista: Jennifer Hepburn
Date: Dec-30-2019
Receipt: CAD4-028
Subject: Business as Usual
Tomorrow, we bury our dead.
And I still don’t know what I’m supposed to say.
Jean-Marc set the tone—closure, moving forward. Carrying our losses without letting them break us. And he’s right. That’s the smart thing to do. The healthy thing to do. But I don’t know if I’m there yet. Not when it comes to Nikki.
Years. I spent years telling myself I’d find the right moment. That at some point, we’d sit down, clear the air, talk like we used to before everything got so… messy. No more time. No second chances. I waited too fucking long. And now, all I’ve got left are the memories—good and bad—I tried to push away.
I keep replaying our last conversation. Wondering if I could’ve changed it. If I’d just said one thing differently, would we have fixed things? Would she still be here? Probably not. Nothing could have dampened her savior complex. But maybe if she knew I didn’t think that was such a bad thing—maybe she would’ve thought twice.
Logistics first. Easier that way.
The service is at noon. We’ll gather at the shore near White Point—somewhere quiet, away from the city a bit. We’ll set up a space for candles, a small offering table if anyone wants to bring something meaningful. No planned speeches. If you want to speak, you can. Even though that was Jean-Marc’s idea, I’m guessing he’ll find some words tomorrow. But there’s no pressure. Just being there is enough.
The plan is we’ll read the names of those we lost. We’ll let the waves take their names, let them hold their memories as water does. Light eight candles. And then, when the last flame goes out, when the fire has finally died once and for all—we can go. Free. With those we’ve lost at peace.
If you have something you want to say, say it. If you need someone to stand with you, I will. Just don’t wait too long. To ask. To act. To say what matters. Some things don’t keep.
I learned that the hard way.