Today is the anniversary of the worst day of my life. True. But I'm tired of blaming it on you. You were the most wonderful thing I knew before the end (didn't give it credit back then but isn't that always how it goes?) and every day before and after played a part in who I am now. But I'm tired of holding onto your death as a catch-all, a realization and an excuse. I'm tired of loving you for living and hating you for the casualties associated with your dying. I think that its time to remember you a different way.

Hold all the best and the worst safe in my ribcage; hold the memories so I don't forget who you were- all of you (a promise I made a long time ago that means just as much today as it did then). But I don't want your dying to be an end anymore. I want it to be like a comforting hand on my shoulder. And I want to remember the place you had in my life before you died, and try to give clearer credit where credit is due for the amazing things you've done for all of us; even in death.

So.

My life isn't over, even if yours is. My life has been profoundly impacted by your leaving but-- more importantly-- by your living. So thank you, for everything.
Thank you for living.
And I'm still so so sorry that you are dead.
I miss you.
I love you.

back & forth