My deceased best friend’s son reached out to me, and I coul…

My deceased best friend’s son reached out to me, and I couldn’t bring myself to respond

It’s been 14 years since I lost my best friend, and even now, it still feels unreal. We were both 20 when he passed. He died right there in my arms, and that single moment split my life into “before” and “after.” I don’t talk about it much, but it left me completely broken. For months, I could barely function. I spiraled hard and eventually had to leave my hometown just to survive.

When he died, his girlfriend was pregnant. He had just found out, and I remember how excited he was he kept talking about how he was going to be the dad he never had. After he passed, I wanted to be there for her, but I was in no condition to help anyone. I could barely help myself. When she later took her own life, I almost followed her. It was too much grief piled on top of grief, and I shut down.

I tried to move on, but I never really stopped thinking about the baby his son. I checked in from time to time, but all I learned was that he ended up in foster care because neither side of the family could take him. After that, I stopped looking. I built a new life, far away. Got married, had two daughters, found peace for the first time in years.

Then a few weeks ago, I got an email that felt like a ghost reaching out. It was from him my best friend’s son. He’s 14 now. He said he found me through LinkedIn. His grandmother recently passed away, and she left him a box filled with pictures of me and his dad growing up two kids who thought we’d grow old together. There was even a letter from his father, written before he was born, saying how happy he was to have a son and that he knew I’d always be by his side.

The boy wrote that he wanted to meet me to hear stories about his dad, to know what kind of person he was, to connect with someone who loved his parents. He told me a bit about his own life how hard it’s been in the system, how he never really had family to lean on. And he left his number, his address, everything.

I opened his Instagram and froze. He looks exactly like his father same eyes, same hair, same smile. It was like staring at a ghost. I can’t explain the flood of emotions that hit me. I wanted to reach out so badly, but something in me just… couldn’t.

I’m ashamed to admit that I haven’t replied. Not a word. Every day, I open that email, read it again, and then close it. I tell myself I’ve healed, but maybe I haven’t. I’m terrified that if I go back if I meet him I’ll end up right where I was all those years ago, drowning in grief I thought I’d buried.

My wife doesn’t even know about any of this. I’ve never told her about my best friend, or how he died, or that he had a son. It’s a part of my life I’ve completely sealed off.

But now I feel like I’m standing at a crossroads. Part of me wants to drive back to that town, find him, and be the person his father hoped I would be. Another part of me wants to protect my peace, my family, and just keep pretending that chapter never existed.

I don’t know which choice makes me a better person facing the past, or letting it stay buried. All I know is, I feel the same ache in my chest that I did 14 years ago, and it scares me how easily it came back.

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