It has been one year, six months, and four days since I last saw you — one year, six months, and four days that have felt like an eternity.
I wish your passing wasn’t so unexpected. I wish I wasn’t given a false sense of hope that you would survive past that week before you left. I wish I got another lifetime, or year, or day, or even hour with you. Most of all, I wish you were still here.
Given your choice, I know you would still be here with us. So whose choice was it that it was your time to go? I don’t know what happens after life on Earth, but I hope wherever you are, you are happy. That is all I want for you. I hope you have found a way to reunite with your mom, your sister, your dad, and everyone else you missed so dearly who has embarked on the same journey as you. I hope this for you, just as much as I hope we will reunite someday. I have to hope, because I don’t know. But if we were able to be together in this life, who’s to say we won’t in our next life?
All we have left here are the memories and legacy you left. It has been said that a person dies twice — once when they die in the literal sense, and secondly when they are no longer being talked about by those of us still living. As long as I am living, you will never die. I am lucky to be able to look back at memories with fondness. I am lucky you left with me an interest in writing and a curiosity for the world. I am lucky that because of you, I have an incredible mom and sister.
You are not still with us, as much as I still hate to utter those words one year, six months, and four days later. But you live on everyday, and I am so thankful for that. Thank you.
Remember, I love you most.