My dear Tovarishch,
I find myself in an odd world, one of uncertainty and certainty. Odder still that I find myself writing this to you after you have passed on. My thoughts often return to our long conversations, sometimes stretched over entire weekends, when we’d attempt to make sense of not only ourselves but this world around us as well. I’ve always felt that it was about trying to achieve balance in an unbalanced world. But how does one find balance? In the chaos that swirls around us, how do we find that peaceful center, that eye of the storm, so to speak? Tip too far to one side or the other and we are sure to be swept up in the tempest that rages around us.
Though you probably didn’t know it, my friend, you carried the answer with you in everything that you were—a brilliant mind anchored by an empathetic heart—a balance you may not have realized that you achieved, yet made you what you were. Compassion, loyalty, kindness, and acceptance were just a few of your key qualities. Your path was not an easy one, but somehow all of this together shaped you into perhaps the most genuine and sincere person I knew.
So as I move on, it is these qualities that I shall strive to achieve, and attempt to emulate the way you demonstrated them so naturally. I shall endeavor to embrace my individuality, to have the same fervor for my interests as well as my loved ones, as you did, as I strive for the balance required to find peace in a perilous world.
Though I miss you dearly, I shall move forward and live as I think you would want me to, been made a better person having been so kindly given your friendship. Perhaps I’ll hold onto this letter, to give it to you when we meet again, for I have no doubt that we will. Until that day, I’ll proudly carry your shining example in my heart.
Until we meet again, Tovarishch
—In loving memory of Andrew—