One year later

It has been one year since I heard your laugh, or call me mom.  

Only one year, but it feels like an eternity and just yesterday at the same time.

We’ve managed to carry on with life, but still I see people dressed like you and I start to call out to you.  Then I remember.  I see someone that walks like you, and I get excited.  Only to remember.  Sometimes, I swear I hear you, and I look around, but it was only my mind playing tricks on me.  I hear songs that you used to love to dance to, and all of the memories come rushing back.  

For a while, I shut them all out because it was too difficult to remember.  Too painful.  But these days I am learning to let them in.  To feel the sadness and loss.  To know that it was all real and I was lucky to call you mine, even if it was for a short time.

In the year since you have been gone, things haven’t changed much.  I keep hoping for a world that is different.  Better.  One where others wouldn’t have to suffer like you.  But I am still waiting.  Hoping.  

Your brothers are ok, but they miss you too.  Sometimes I find them sitting and watching, quietly, a music video for a song that was written for a friend that was gone too soon.  We all still think about you. Miss you.  Wonder why you had to go.

I know you are in good company there, and probably having the time of your life.  I can’t wait to hear all about it when I see you again.  In the meantime,  we are still fighting the good fight and hoping for a world that is good and just.  Until we meet again, know you are stilled missed deeply and loved.