So Much Left to Say

Turns out, holidays are excruciating. Even ones we didn’t always spend together - ones that never had significant traditions or meaning… everything has become harder since you’ve been gone.

I cried yesterday. I cried hard so many times - tears that came out of nowhere and for no reason. I couldn’t make them stop because I just miss you so damn much.

It’s been 71 days, and I’ve have missed you fiercely on each and every one of them. But for some reason, I always miss you the most on Sunday’s. I miss our phone calls, recapping our weekends and talking about new recipes and what we will make for dinner that night. I miss hearing you laugh as you tell me what goofy thing the dog did or how dad was swearing up a storm as he tried to be “handy” and fix something around the house.

I miss your pep talks. How you would always remind me that I would be OK. I miss Sunday mornings at home, you cooking up eggs and bacon and all of us sitting around that tiny kitchen table. The way you would hug me as I headed out the door to drive back to Indy - always holding on a little too tight and a little too long. And the way you would stand in the driveway and wave goodbye until my car drove out of sight.

It’s all the little things that hurt so much. The little things I will never get back… because you are never coming back.

I wish I could call you. I still have so much left to say.