One year later

One year ago today, you left us unexpectedly and somehow I put it together long enough to write this. I think today on the anniversary of your passing, I’m sort of caught with a bunch of conflicted emotions that I don’t know how to make sense out of. I can’t believe it’s been an entire year. I can’t believe all of the things that have happened that I want to tell you about. I can’t believe I didn’t buy you a birthday present for the first time this year, and that the trip to Home Depot to get your live Christmas tree won’t be happening. I can’t accept your playful guff about how your Yankees won the World Series in their new stadium.

When I went to go see you a few weeks ago, I knew that you were still with me. The place where you lie now is peaceful, and brings me peace and solace. When we talk, I know you’re listening. When you brought snow last night, just like you did on the day you left, I know it was because you wanted us to remember again. And when you brought us a beautiful winter day to remember you again, I know it’s your way of saying “I’m ok”. And it’s not like we’ve ever forgotten.

We’re all ok too. But we miss you. And next time I come to see you, I’ll have a Yankees World Series cap in tow. Just because.

And you’ll always be riding with us - I named my new car Deb, because it’s going to keep us safe, and take us to great places. Something I know you would have always wanted.

We always love you. We’ll always remember.

Thank you for all you’ve done for me.