I’m not the type to write stuff down, but today I don’t know what else to do. I found the note Harrison wrote for Hadassah, and I guess I need to get this out, even if no one reads it. Maybe it’s for me. Maybe it’s for Hadassah. I don’t know anymore.
Harrison’s gone. I’ve been sitting here for hours, trying to wrap my head around it. I found him this morning, and I haven’t been the same since. I can’t stop thinking about everything—about how we got here, about how I didn’t see it coming. And now there’s this damn note, and it’s like the universe is twisting the knife deeper.
The note was for Hadassah. A kid. My kid now, in a way. She’s still 13, still figuring out who she is, still way too young to be dealing with something like this. But Harrison... he left this for her. I didn’t even know he had written anything, but there it was, tucked away like some final message, like it was the last thing he needed to say before he did what he did.
I read it three times before I could even begin to process it. It’s heartbreaking. It’s confusing. It’s full of everything he never could say when he was alive, and now it’s too late.
Here’s what he wrote:
Hadassah,
You don’t even know you saved me. That day at Arrowhead, when you hugged me on the stairs, I was about to end it all. I don’t know why you were there, and I don’t know why you hugged me, but that’s the reason I’m still here, at least for a little longer. You didn’t know it, but that simple thing stopped me from going over the edge.
I’ve been in this dark place for so long. It’s not just about football or the stuff I’ve said to you. There’s more. I’ve hated myself for years, and I’ve been fighting these voices in my head since I was a kid. I never really told anyone about it. I never knew how.
I don’t expect you to forgive me for the things I said, for the way I treated you. I know I made your life harder, and for that, I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. But that day, when you just... hugged me like nothing was wrong, like I wasn’t the monster I felt like, that was the first time in a long time I didn’t feel like disappearing.
I don’t know what I’m trying to say. Maybe it’s that I wish I could have been a better person. Maybe it’s that I see now how strong you are, even though you’re so young. I wish I had that strength when I was your age.
I don’t know if this note makes any sense. I just wanted to let you know that you’re special. You saved me that day. I know you don’t know that, and maybe you never will. But you should.
Thank you, Hadassah. I hope you find your way in this world, even if I couldn’t find mine.
-Harrison
I don’t know how I’m going to tell her. I don’t know how to explain that, even after everything he said to her, even after all the horrible things, she was the one thing that kept him alive a little longer. She was his last light, and now I’ve got to tell her he left her this note.
What makes this all so much worse is that Harrison’s note wasn’t angry. It wasn’t full of the bitterness he’d shown for so long. It was quiet, like he’d already made peace with his decision. But there’s this undercurrent of regret, like he wished he could have been better for her, for me, for everyone.
I don’t know how I’m going to sit her down and explain that someone who hated her for things beyond her control, someone who mocked her, still saw her as his savior.
How do you tell a 13-year-old that? How do you tell them that the one person who treated them like dirt still relied on them to survive, even for just a little longer? It feels cruel, but she deserves the truth.
And what kills me the most is that Hadassah, being who she is, will forgive him. She’ll cry, sure. She’ll cry because she’s got this huge heart that’s too big for her own good. She’ll cry for him, the same way she cried when she heard the news. The same kid he tormented is the only one who shed a tear for him, and I don’t know how to deal with that.
I’ll tell her eventually. I have to. But for now, I’m just sitting here with these notes—Harrison’s last words to her, and the one he left for me. He didn’t say much to me. Just that he was sorry, and that I deserved better.
I can’t help but feel like I failed him. I should have seen it. I should’ve been there. And now, I’m left with these pieces, trying to figure out what to do next. Trying to figure out how to tell Hadassah that she was the only thing keeping him here, even when the rest of us couldn’t reach him.
I’m writing this because maybe it’ll help me understand. Or maybe it’ll help Hadassah understand one day. She deserves to know she made a difference, even if it’s too late for Harrison now.
God, I don’t even know how to end this. There’s no closure. Just more pain, more questions. But I guess that’s all I’ve got for now.
-Isiah
