The caravan was packed up. The bags had been packed. The car was ready to leave. I was not.

The headlines that morning were brutal, showing the gun, revealing what happened and their reasonings as to why. I never read one fully.

My mum knew how I felt. I reckon my whole family did. There was nothing anyone could do except try to save others from committing suicide. My mum knew how much it impacted everyone.

We began our journey home. The road felt changed, everything readjusting to the loss of another human.

His mother rang as we stopped for a break.

She was crying by the time I answered and I knew nothing had to have been said. Her son killed himself, no mother should go through that pain.

We drove and drove until the familiar streets greeted us with a welcoming hand, but they all had changed. A part of me had gone, but a part had been filled.

It was hard to accept that I was suddenly healing.

I never wanted him to die, I loved him. He might have hurt me and I might have left him to breathe, but nothing could've equated to that. I was drowning when I thought I was swimming. He was burning in a isolated room.

When we arrived home the reality of it all struck. I was soon to go to school, study and graduate, doing all the things normal teenagers would be doing in their senior year. The idea that Pete wouldn't be there for that, for the rest of his life was hard to process. He stopped it all.

My room was dark as I opened the door. The bed was made and the curtains hung mischievously. A letter lay on my bed as I dropped my bags. I grabbed it, holding it close to my heart.

Dear Georgia, now we can heal.

I dropped it back on the bed. No tears formed, no pain appeared. I pulled out one of my old notebooks and flipped to and empty page, dumping it on my desk and sitting down to search for a pen. I quickly found one and began writing.

Dear Pete,
Today the headlines were going nuts. They truly were surprised by you dying.
Today also marks the first day without you, even though I've had many before. You have healed, and I shall begin.
Love,
Georgia

I placed the pen gently on the paper and stood up. I moved over to my window, when the sun began to set. In the sun I saw Pete, now apart of the sky and the sunset.

His death was unnecessary, but he saw it as necessary. He healed.

And so must I.