In some ways, my first tattoo was for you. I'd wanted one for years, but your death reminded me of how many tomorrows I don't own. I miss you today. I looked at my planner and started to write down all my important dates... Yes, your birthday is still being written down in my planner.
I look at that tattoo and remember the pain and beauty that came with that work of art. In some ways, very much like you. The beauty of who you are marked by such pain for something very permanent.
I want to remember you.
I fear forgetting your face. Your voice, more than anything. I wish I had your phone number to listen to your voicemail.... it sounds creepy and awkward, but I miss your voice. Your laugh.
How do you remember someone who has died? Do acts of remembrance have to be cheesy? I inherently think folks are rolling their eyes every time I mention just how much I miss you. I just do. I can't help the days (like today) when I feel like crying while looking at your Facebook photos.
Every once in a while, I feel a little lost. I try to muster up some courage and keep living my life. I hold onto words you said, images you shared, and videos posted of you. That will be enough for today.