Letters to Emily Jean
For those of you who knew her, you know exactly why this is going to be a very informal book. For those of you who did not know her but knew of her or wish they had, you will soon understand why this is going to be a very informal book. For those of you who have picked up this book and are already thinking “great, another sob story”, you may put it down and know only that you do not deserve to understand. This book is not for its readers. It is for neither its supporters nor its opposers. I will make up words, not pay attention to grammar, and tell the truth. I don’t care if I make you cry or hurt your feelings.
I’ll start by telling you a bit about Emily. Emily Jean Savery was born on February 8, 1994. She is a daughter, a sister, and a best friend… and that’s all to say the least. She was the most beautiful woman to ever live. She had a raw passion for life that swelled in her eyes at the slightest provocation. She loved to ski and dance and hike. She was an artist and comedian. She had a way of touching everything around her. There is not a day that goes by that something doesn’t remind me of Emily. A snowflake, a cupcake, a glow stick, a hair tie. A simple word or song on the radio. If you knew her, it happens to you, too.
Traveling home with three friends on February 17, 2012, Emily was killed in a drunk-driving accident. She was the only one in the car who didn’t make. Why? Beats me. But I know there must have been a reason behind it. It is hard for me to continue being religious since losing Emily. I don’t understand how any sort of higher power could take such a young, wonderful creature from those who needed her so badly. It has taken me a very long time to find what I need to help me cope and move on without Emily. If anyone were to see me late at night, or alone at anytime really, they would probably think I’m crazy. Because I talk to myself… or at least that is what it must look like from a distance. In reality, I talk to Emily, every chance I get. When I actually consciously caught myself doing it I realized that maybe I should be writing these “conversations” down. Maybe this is what I need. Thus began Letters to Emily Jean. I have found myself not being able to handle Emily’s death in any way shape or form. Writing has always been my therapeutic pastime so I am truly hoping that this book will help me, and maybe even some of her many admirers in the process.
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