Dear Jeff,

It’s been a year since you took your life to escape from a world you didn’t think you were good enough for. You had an image to live up to that no one ever could. Whoever you thought you had to be like could never have lived up to what you became. You were larger than life, had a tougher skin than anyone else I’ve ever met, but also had the biggest heart, never letting someone go who needed something.

I think about now and then, a few times a month, more now that I have my motorcycle—not that it was close to yours. For being my cousin, you were more than twice my age when we lost you. My eyes nearly water when I have a rum and Coke, your favorite drink. I tell everyone it’s from shit rum. Some people may never forgive you completely for leaving us, and I wish you hadn’t. But I don’t blame you. Since I was a kid, all I wanted to be was big and strong like you were. I know you weren’t always easy for people to get along with, but we’ll always love you.

John, age 20