A letter to the number I can’t delete. 

I cleaned out my contacts today. All the numbers that we’re of no use anymore. Yet when I came to yours I selected and unselected it several times. I told myself “just delete it” “you won’t reach who you want with that number.” “Heaven doesn’t have cell service” . I knew I was right but I didn’t delete it. 

I thought about texting it in fact. Thought about writing out the words I’d wished I said before it was to late. I’ve been fussing at myself since it happened for not messaging you the dozens of times you’d popped into my head. Maybe if I had there wouldn’t be so many people questioning of the accident was really an accident. Maybe I wouldn’t be questioning it. Maybe it wouldn’t have happened. I know we weren’t super close in the last year but I always counted you as family. 

I’m sorry J. I wish I had texted you about the anniversary of the buffaloing. I wish I had told you I missed you. I wish I’d said something. I wish I had introduced you to “Rueben”. I wish I could rewind time. But I can’t. So instead I keep your number saved. I keep considering texting it what I’d say to you. I wish heaven had phones, it would make this so much easier. 
Bet you can see ALL the fireflies up there. 
Keep searching for Fireflies,