We used to be smart. You and I. We used to have a million names for everything. Oak trees were "oakers". Plums were "spindles." That look my mum wore when we spilt milk all over her Italian tiles-"grumslug".

We used to be superior. We would stomp up to our parents, under the porch where they would be sipping wine and gossiping. We would tell them we had found fairies and goblins and money trees and they weren't allowed to see them. We would tell the other children at school they weren't allowed to play with us until they bought blue shoes.

We were the closest friends imaginable. When I got pushed off the swings, you punched the bullying kid in the nose. When you failed a test, I ripped up my paper covered in ticks and marked with an A. When I broke my arm, you purposely jumped out your window and fractured your wrist just so you could be in the hospital with me, in case I got lonely. And now I feel guilty because I didn't return the favour.

What prompts someone to suicide? What makes someone hurt so much they go straight for the big finish? Is it because I didn't let you sip my apple juice in grade four? Is it because I went to a different university? Is it because somewhere down the road, I stopped picking up the phone when you called?

I know this is my fault. I should have known. I felt it, you know. I was in the supermarket looking at lettuce. You were a million miles away from my thoughts. I had to think of picking up the kids and chopping lettuce and Karen's birthday... Suddenly I felt this terrible pain in my heart. I dismissed it as stress but now I know it was you.

I'm sorry. I wish i could take it all back. I wish I had woken up with your name on my lips. I wish I had thought of inviting you to coffee or called you. I wish I could go back twenty years and stay bound to your side. These are the roses from your father's garden. We planted them and the parents said "They'll never grow. Not in this climate." But they did. We were right all along.

Goodbye.