A Letter to an Old Classmate Who Is Still in the Class Group Chat

There are people we lose whom nobody counts as "family". An old classmate, a colleague, a neighbour. That kind of loss has no anniversary, no place in the talk over the family meal, and sometimes the person carrying it is not sure they have the right to be sad.

The letter below was written by a thirty-year-old, four months after an old classmate died. It does not need to be sent anywhere. You can read it as a letter of your own, changing the name and the story.

Dear Khoa,

I did not know how to begin, so I will just say your name first. Yesterday Zalo reminded me of your birthday. The little box came up at the top of the screen with your name and the profile photo of you holding a sea bass at the fishing pond, grinning with all your teeth. I looked at it all lunchtime, closed it, and a little later opened it again.

The class group chat still has your name in it. Nobody has left the group, and nobody mentions it. The other day Tín posted a photo of a few of us out drinking, and your name was still on the list of people who had seen it, as if you had only not got round to liking it.

The last message you sent me was a sticker of a cat giving a thumbs up. I did not answer, because I was in a meeting that day and meant to reply that night. I have not deleted it. Every weekend I open it and look at that cat for a while. I know a sticker was not the last thing you wanted to say. I still cannot bear that it is the last one.

I have not cried as much as I thought I would. At the funeral I stood at the very back, because I felt I was not family. For the first few weeks I went to work as usual, and nobody there knew I had just lost a friend. I did not say, because I did not know how to say it right. "My old classmate died" sounded like something not big enough.

There are a few things I never told you. In high school I thought you were a little loud, a little showy. Now that I look back, that loudness was what gave the whole class somewhere to laugh. I also never said that on the day I left for the city to start work, you were the only one who rode me to the bus station, and I said "thanks" exactly once, in passing, and dragged my suitcase away.

I do not blame you for anything. I am also trying not to blame myself for the sticker I did not answer. I am grateful for those iced coffees on the pavement outside our old school gate, ten thousand dong a glass, sitting on those low plastic stools where you always made me put my feet up on the stool opposite. Nothing about them was big, and only now do I know what they were.

I promise I will not leave the group chat. Your name can stay there. I promise that the next time someone says your name in the middle of a drinking night, I will not change the subject. And I will answer that sticker on the day I feel ready. It might be only one line: "Got it."

As for a wish, I do not know what to write. I do not want to write where you are or how you are, because I do not know. I only wish, for myself and for the others in the group, that each of us finds a way to remember you without being afraid.

Your classmate, third desk from the back.

If you have also lost someone whose relationship to you never had a clear name, you still have the right to be sad. One way is writing memories in gratitude for the departed for yourself. Another is to open seven questions to write for a pain with no name, because sometimes the hardest part is not yet knowing what to call your sadness.

When to seek professional support

This article is a letter written to a friend who has died. It cannot replace the support of a professional, and I am not promising it will make missing them any lighter.

But here are a few signs you should bring to a professional, rather than carrying them alone:

• For weeks you have blamed yourself heavily, and the "if only" thoughts keep coming back without ending
• For weeks you have not been able to sleep or eat, even when you try
• You hide the sadness from everyone and feel yourself pulling further away from them
• You think about hurting yourself, even if it is just a passing thought

The last point cannot wait. Speak with someone you trust, today. The Emergency Support page explains what holds true in moments like that.

Losing a friend is a real loss, and asking a professional to sit with you in it is a normal thing to do.