To the One in Heaven,
You know as much as I do the five stages of grief from your time here on earth. I have gone through them all. Now, eight years later, I can say I have found that final stage of acceptance. Yet, with acceptance also comes pain.
Acceptance comes with fear, vulnerability, and lessons. As we approach what would be your 31st birthday, I feel all of these things. I fear my future without you, despite the eight years I have spent learning to live in such a way. I fear the times that you will miss and the feeling of sadness that encompasses those moments. I question these times. Will my wedding bring happiness and hope or sadness of you being missing? Will it bring both? What about my graduation or your future niece or nephew? How do I teach them about the best person I’ve ever known from distant memories?
Acceptance comes with the vulnerability of knowing your time and the time of those you love is short here on earth. My once coldness toward human interaction and emotion has been overtaken with “I love yous” and good bye hugs and kisses as you truly never know the last time you will be in that person’s presence. Knowing that life is short and living your life in such a way is the truest act of vulnerability. It is knowing that people’s opinions will not matter unless it is that of those who love you. This is the vulnerability you lived your life as every day.
Your death has taught me the greatest lessons I have ever known. The greatest being that last words matter. The night of your death, we had been fighting the entire day leading up. I don’t even remember what it was about, but that’s how most fights work right? Before you went to bed, you forced a rare “I love you” out of me and we made up.
That was the last time I saw you. I have lived my life thinking about last words, acceptance, and how much I miss you ever since.
Sincerely, The One Who Misses You, but is Doing Okay