I wish I could pick up the phone and call you and just hear your voice. It wouldn’t even matter what we talked about. Just hearing you again would be enough. I’d tell you how much I love you and try to catch you up on everything you’ve missed.
I’d ask you if heaven is real, and what it’s like. I’d ask you what you’ve been up to there, and if you’re having fun with your grandma. I’d ask you if you could find my mom and my sister and tell them how much I love them and how much I miss them too.
I wouldn’t tell you how much I’ve been struggling since losing you. I wouldn’t tell you about the days where it feels pointless to get out of bed, or how lost and broken I feel without you. I wouldn’t tell you any of that, because I’d never want you to worry about me.
It’s been nearly four months since we lost you, and it still hurts just as much as it did on day one. Some days it still doesn’t feel real, like I’m stuck in a nightmare I can’t wake up from.
I miss you so fucking much. Every minute of every single day.
