My Dear Friend,

I suppose it’s about time I grabbed a pen and paper and made an effort to communicate with you again. I haven’t heard about your whereabouts, but Gemma said she got wind that you were in France, and that was last I heard about you. We all miss you. It doesn’t feel the same going to the café every evening without you.

Well, if you bothered to even write a letter to me asking how I was then you would know much more sooner than this letter that I am perfectly well. Your absence in my life hasn’t impacted me much, not that you would care anyways. Stevie, on the other hand, misses you dearly. Poor sucker cries every night claiming he misses his favorite “uncle”…

Have you spoken to Walter? He hasn’t replied to any of my letters and of course it’s no surprise having that he walked out of his son’s life. It seems that lately everyone’s leaving me. Please come back. Why aren’t you writing back? Is disappearing from the face of the Earth and backpacking across the world so much more important than replying to a simple letter? Never mind actually being here for me while I struggle to take care of a toddler. Do you recall all those times I helped you take care of your little cousin? How about you return the favor? You have to at some point, you’ll run out of money soon.

You know what. I think I’m just about done with this. You want to disappear from my life, then I’ll never return to yours. What a friend you are. Really? Backpacking across the world for a whole 3 years. And not even replying to a simple letter!

I hate you. But that is but a lie, I could never actually hate you. I really mean it, I do.

3 years, and I’ve forgotten your face. 3 years, and I don’t get a response. 3 years, I haven’t heard the comfort of your voice. 3 years, and I’m not sure if my dear friend is dead or just abandoned me. 3 harsh years of writing letters monthly to someone who most likely doesn’t even read them, forget replying to them.

We grew up side by side. I took you in when nobody else would. My Parents, took you in. Treated you as if you were a son. You are like a brother to me. We were two peas in a pod. The Clyde to my Bonnie, partner’s in crime. And in return all I get is you leaving.

How the tables have turned so fast. One grown from riches, the other from poverty. Now I’m struggling to get a living as a divorcée and you’re here wasting all the money you’ve made from business, on absolutely nothing. You knew. And the least you could’ve done is lent me the key to your mansion. Perhaps the maids would’ve provided some comfort, unlike you.

I’m afraid this shall be the last you’ll hear of me ever. If you do, at some point end your trip and decide to pop into my life again, just know that you aren’t welcome. Hopefully, Stevie will have forgotten of your existence and quit his cries for your absence. You don’t deserve his tears, and he’ll grow to later learn why.

I have always loved you, and still will.

Farewell, my dear friend, you will be missed.

D. O. Hare