I miss you.
I wish there were enough words to accurately describe how I feel, but there’s none, not even close. My heart hurts so much but also filled with so much love, especially for you.
I miss your laugh. I miss your hugs. I miss us spending hours on the phone talking about nothing. I miss your lame jokes. Most importantly I miss your impromptu singing session and dance routine.
I thought time was supposed to heal; it hasn’t healed anything. I can still hear it sometimes, that laugh, your laugh.
The pain hurt each time in a way it never had before.
It’s still a nightmare that I still haven’t woken up from.
It hurts to think all I have are memories and with two years in between the last memory we made. All I have are pictures and videos remembering your face, full of life, and that voice I would recognize anywhere, but I still wish I had more.
I guess that’s why I write these letters to you.t
These words that I turned into blog posts. I don’t write to forget. I write to relive the moments I cherish the most. I write to understand and accept and reflect. Through my writing, that’s when I feel the most connected to you; it’s where the puzzle pieces begin to fit. I quiet the voices in my head, and there’s a brief moment of what I imagine is peace, happiness. I have an urge to tell you all about it, so I write it all down, I want to remember everything, and most importantly, I want to treasure and hold on to the memories that are mine, that are authentic. This is when the Ache becomes too powerful to resist. I don’t hold my breath. I unclench and let it take me.
I am reminded constantly, by the ache.
This was a higher love, a love that will last forever.
Grief changed me or revealed me.
You taught me to be everything I wanted, and get everything I imagined, feel deeply, and without regret. You showed me the kind of friends I want, the kind I want to be. Thank you!
At times I wonder if I’m doing this grieving thing wrong, then my therapist quickly reminds me that “It’s okay to feel all the feelings that I’m feeling, she said, you’re becoming human again.
The letters I write to you, I write them so I can revise them whenever I go deep within my words. I’ll be revising them until I take my last breath.
Losing a best friend forces you to grow up, but how am I supposed to without my best friend to hold me? I think about how you won’t be at each other weddings and applauding and cheering for one another on our goals and accomplishments. I think about how you won’t be here for any other pain or loss I’m bound to encounter or the one’s I’ve already encountered. Your support is the one that needed the most the night it happened.
You taught me that you never know when the last moment you will see someone and to not hold grudges, not to hold back because there isn’t time for that.
To be continued….
