I try to focus as Principal Jackson thanks us all for being here. His voice trembles as he lists off all of Andrew’s accomplishments, but he has to stop a few times to rein in his emotions. When he took this job, he probably never thought he’d be speaking at a virtual memorial service for one of his students during a global pandemic. This was the plot twist none of us saw coming. My gaze lands on Lizzy, sobbing as her dad puts a comforting arm around her. When it’s her turn to speak, she tries to read a poem for Andrew, but she can’t get through it and her parents suggest we move on. I’d have to be a monster not to feel some semblance of sympathy for her.

I notice that every little black box on my computer screen is filled with families except mine. Wes is with his dad. Parisa is with her parents. So is everyone else. I’m the only student who’s attending the memorial by myself. Elena and Julia wanted to be here, but we are already a month late on our rent and peddling vegan small bites today could make the difference between staying in our apartment or getting an eviction notice. You’d think I’d be used to having the fewest number of family, but I’m not.

I guess that’s why I have so much trouble keeping my emotions at bay when it’s Andrew’s grandpa’s turn to eulogize him. He starts by saying how hard it was not getting to see Andrew when he was in the hospital and how they hadn’t seen each other since lockdown because he wasn’t willing to risk getting his grandson sick. I know it’s beyond inappropriate to feel envious of my dead friend, but my heart aches knowing that if I got sick, my grandparents won’t be showing up for me at all. I pinch my thigh to stop myself from crying and watch as his hands shake as he unfolds a piece of paper.

“This was an email Andrew wrote to his future self for his English class. Andrew’s mother asked me to read it to you today.

“Dear Andrew,” his grandfather continues.

Whoa, dude. You’re thirty now. You’re old! I don’t really know what to say to you. This is kind of a cheesy assignment (sorry, Mr. Dennery). Hopefully, everything after this pandemic is cake. This year has really sucked. It’s not at all what you expected from your senior year, but I have a lot of high hopes for what you’re like twelve years from now. I hope you got to live out your dream of getting your MBA at Stanford.