My Dear Sweet Friend Dan. Let it not be lost on me the irony that your final Instagram post read: die until you’re dead from it... and it was an entire year and a few days after that you ended your own life. I am 35 years old and you were the first person in my life who died. And in the last year I have had many many thoughts of you. None of them angry. I never understood that anger is one of the reactions to suicide. I knew how much pain you were in, both physical and emotional. I understood from the moment I heard the news. I am forever thankful I got to talk with you right up until the end, or close enough to the end. We had texted all that day... you seemed happy, peaceful, in good spirits. I will be forever sorry I had fallen asleep and missed your final 3 messages... I woke to find out you were dead before I even read those. My first thought was: how could you have killed yourself WITHOUT ME? As we had talked for years about our struggles with depression. I was so sad that you didn’t opt to do a murder(me)/suicide(you) when I was back home (and you are not a murderer... so there’s that...) Only you were ready and I wasn’t, not yet. I recognize that is not a normal reaction to a loved one’s suicide... but what is normal? And why is the default to choose life? To WANT to be alive? I have wanted to die since as long as I could remember. Since at least as early as 2nd grade. I don’t promote suicide and I cannot yet die as I have ties and responsibilities... but I wonder all the time why there is not even a CONVERSATION about intentional death, optional, ethical, responsible, safe, loving human euthanasia. I feel it is a disservice to humanity when none of us asked to be born and none of us are allowed to want to die. Also, I will celebrate your death day, Dear Friend, on Nov 5th. As that is the only holiday I care to celebrate in my weird little life. Remember, remember, the 5th of November. I know you, of all people, will appreciate and approve.