One Year Without You
Today will have been one year since you left. Don’t worry I’m not actually writing this today. I took the day off and I hopefully slept in late. I imagine you gloating about having your own designated holiday now. Hopefully today won’t be too hard. I have plans to see friends. My therapist told me that the anticipation is often worse than the day itself. I hope that is true. Lately it has felt like it is all happening again but this time I know what is coming but I still can’t stop it. Sometimes I can almost pretend that you’re off traveling and just not texting me because you’re so busy visiting bookshops and going to concerts. I cry when new Bayside songs come out because you will never hear them. I listen to them on repeat for you. I try to check on our people but I’ll never be as good at it as you. I have conversations with you in my head. Sometimes they are whole conversations and sometimes they are just me mentally yelling at you for choosing to take your life and leave me with dark jokes as a coping mechanism. I cried when I finished the last of the hot chocolate you brought me after that huge order was undeliverable. The first episode of Here Goes Something is my favorite to listen to when I miss your voice. I’m glad that my photos remind me and give me memories of you. I didn’t realize how few photos there were of us together but I have a few. I try to imagine your sass in so many situations. I know that you were trying when I picture you in your Frank Turner shirt and getting your last tattoos. I still cry in the shower to the playlist you left. Sometimes I still hold your shirt as if it smells like you even though it has long faded. There are days when I fall asleep remembering what it felt like to hold your hand. Walking down the sidewalk in the rain feels like you’re still with me. I’m grateful for the time you gave me.