One Year

"Wow, Preston... so... What was it like? Being.. I mean... you know..." I didn't want to just come out with the word, because it still seemed so unreal.
"You mean, dead?" He said it with no hesitation at all.
"Well.. yeah.. I mean, you were like dead for a year almost, and then you just crawled out of your grave and now here you are.. back on Earth, alive."
Ok, so things weren't exactly the same.. You could still see where the bullet had penetrated his throat when he had shot himself in the mouth. May 18, 2001... We were in 8th grade. He must have been depressed. I didn't bother asking why he did it though. I was just happy that he was back.
"Yeah.." he was obviously at lack for words.
"God, Preston, I missed you so much... please.. don't ever do that again. I'm so glad you're back. Don't go away.. ever again."
He leaned in for a hug, and I leaned in-

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I woke up in a cold sweat, breathing heavily. My face drowning in tears. I tried to catch my breath.
What the-? What was my dream all about?? Preston... he was... alive...
the tears ran again.
It was May 17, 2002. The night before the one year anniversary of Preston's death. Well, ok, I guess it was May 18, now. 3:22 AM.
Why had I had a dream like that? God, it was like one of those dreams where you wake up and you're upset because it was only a dream... times 1,000. I wanted more than anything for Preston to come back. And, he couldn't. He was gone. Forever. I didn't even get to say goodbye. And, the sad part about it was he WANTED to die. He killed himself. Was life so bad as it should seem that there were no more options for him?
I wasn't going to get back to sleep now. I had to do something. I reached under my bed and grabbed out the shoebox labeled "Preston's Box". Inside, there were pictures of me and him, poems that I had written since his death, the funeral program, some dead rose pedals that were given to some of his closest friends at the funeral, and a ring that came out of a 25 cent machine at the mall. A bunch of us had gone to the mall one day in 6th grade and he got it and gave it to me, saying "Will you marry me?"
I guess our plans are cancelled.
But, I couldn't do this anymore. I couldn't have dreams that he was coming back. It had been one year, and it was time to move on.
I put the lid back on the box, and headed downstairs. My hair matted from the sweat and tears combined, my body still shaky and nervous feeling, I took a few tylenol. I needed a shower, to rinse the last grip that Preston had on me away. I turned on the shower, most of the way cold, and jumped in, my body not adjusted to the cold yet. The tears and sweat mixed with the cold water, flowing down the drain...
Goodbye, Preston.