Dear Jacob,

This past weekend was such a drag. I was up late Thursday night doing work online, simply because I wanted to. It was around 1 a.m. that I told myself to call it quits, cos I had work the next morning.

I had noticed a message pop up on Facebook, but the person looked unfamiliar. I was reluctant to view the message, thinking maybe I should just wait until the next day. Of course, my curiosity got the best of me, as it usually does. It was your fiancé, Rebecca. She was wondering if I had heard about you, and I guess had sorta assumed I had, considering how things spread quickly on the internet. She told me there was an event for you on Saturday.

At first, I thought you had been in some sort of accident. Then, I looked on your Facebook page and, after reading comments left by Rebecca and your friends, concluded that you were dead. Not only that, but you had been dead for two weeks. I fucking lost it.

I was up for hours, crying my eyes out. The eyes you told me you loved, because of "how expressive they are." They expressed my pain all weekend, and everyone I encountered knew it.

I texted my boss and told her I wouldn't be coming in on Friday. I slept in since I had stayed up til nearly 4a.m. feeling hopeless. I had nobody to hug; my boyfriend is in Hawaii. I called him and cried to him, but it just wasn't the same. I thought about going upstairs and climbing into bed with my parents, but I didn't want to disrupt their sleep. It was awful. Finally, I drifted off.

When I woke, I almost immediately started crying again. I threw on my cozy bathrobe for comfort, and walked into the kitchen. I saw my dad. I greeted him and he could tell something was wrong. He asked, and I just started sobbing and told him how I found out you had committed suicide. His face looked anguished as he cried, "Oh God, not another one! Oh, honey..." and he gave me a big hug. I appreciated it so much, to finally get that physical human interaction I so desperately needed. Poor Dad, he's always the one who sees me a wreck when I tell him I lost somebody. Every one of my peers who has died, that I either knew directly or thru friends, has died in a tragic way; suicide or overdose. One drowned. It's rather depressing.

My mom called me later, she wanted to check in. I was just waking up when I overheard my dad telling her what happened over the phone earlier. She called me again in the afternoon. I love her. At home that evening we got to talking in the kitchen. She patted my back awkwardly, apologizing for my loss. It was sort of odd when she asked me something like, "How long are you going to be like this?" and I said something similar to, "Why would you ask that?" She explained she only meant she didn't want me to be overcome by it, I guess. Well shit, I've gotten thru it before, but it always sucks - a lot. I think she has a hard time talking about suicide though, cos one of her brothers killed himself. It's weird and sad how we have such tragedies in common - losing loved ones that way.

That night I went over to my neighbor's house. He had a buddy over and they were grilling. It was good to get out of the house. They could tell I was bummed though. I talked about you for a little. I enjoyed my time out, distracting myself. After three Vodka & Cranberry drinks I did cry, but it was brief. The guys walked me home a little while after. I fell asleep by 10 p.m. and woke up around 2:30 a.m. I was still drunk. I had a little toke and laid back in bed, thinking. I felt calm.

Saturday, I didn't do a whole lot. I slept in. When I did wake, I puttered around the house, waiting for my dad's nephew and his family to come by. They were passing thru on their way home to Georgia, coming from New York. I showered and cleaned my bathroom a little. I interacted with them for a while when they arrived, but eventually I holed up in the spare bedroom upstairs and fell asleep. I woke up to my ex-fiancé entering the room. She had brought me your book, like I had asked. I had left it at her house, along with all my other books, because I don't have a place to put them yet. I wanted to thumb thru your book so I could send Rebecca snapshots of the paintings in there that I really like. She's going to send whatever is available, along with the portrait I painted of you, if she can find it. My ex gave me a hug. She knew how much you meant to me, just as Rebecca knows how much I meant to you. I'm glad Rebecca made the effort to get in touch with me to let me know about you. It shows me how much she cares for you, and for the people you touched.

I went out that night and hung out with some other friends. I just watched them play cards as I drank beer and chatted. We had some delicious food, but unfortunately for me it wasn't so delicious on the way up at nearly 6 a.m., or the two other times within two hours after that. Even when I finally awoke around 10 a.m. I felt off. I had experienced chills ever since I first rose. I had no appetite and just wanted to go back to sleep, which I did. I felt bad for my friend whose house I'd stayed at. At least I cleaned up after myself each time I puked, so it's not like he had to take care of me much. He just let me sleep and hung out with the other guy who'd stayed over. They took me home around 3 p.m. and I continued to nap on and off the rest of the day. Finally, around 9 p.m. or so I managed to eat. Just watermelon. I managed to stay awake a little longer, then went back to bed.

So you see, it really was not the best weekend, but I appreciated the few good parts. The only thing that really makes me uneasy is the fact that I realized we conversed online the day before you killed yourself. On the day I flew back from Colorado you said to me, "I am curious what things you like about Colorado since visiting there." I replied, "The landscapes make me want to paint. The wildlife is cool. The independent shops and cafes and restaurants have allowed me to eat better than any other time I have traveled...the public art...its incredible." You read my message on May 21st, but it doesn't say what time. I wish I knew what had been going on in your head right then, I really do...

I think sitting at my computer now feels a little different, specifically at night. This is where I met you, and this is where I lost you. I will never get the opportunity to meet you in person, like I had hoped to. You surely would have been one of my stops whenever I finally get around to traveling to California. You still will be I guess, once I find out where you're resting. It's just a shame I won't be able to look you in the eye and go on adventures with you. I was really looking forward to that.

Tonight, while posing for a sculpture class, I thought of you. I thought about how you once told me you'd thought it would be cool to paint me in real life, instead of from a photo. I thought about what it would be like if you had been in that sculpture class, chatting with the other students and me. I bet it would have been fun. I'd be interested to see your attempt at anatomical sculpture as opposed to illustrations.

I am thankful for: our friendship, our mutual love and practice of art, our conversations (art-related and not), your love of interesting plants and curiosity about my botanical art studies, the portraits you painted of me and sent to me, your book and the lovely note you wrote inside the cover, and the random coloring books you sent me that one time (specifically the Beetlejuice one). I will forever cherish all of these and any paintings Rebecca has a chance to mail me.

Thank you for existing, Jacob Mantia.

Your Friend,

Sara Moline