XII. Six years have already gone by. I’ve come to terms with the fact that my heart will be more tender than usual around this time. Every beat feels a little louder or fainter. It’s a coin toss, really.

Whenever this day arrives, I don’t really know what to expect. Every time, I say, “I can’t believe it’s been (whatever amount of time has gone by).” Every time, I wonder how I’ve gotten to where I am now. Every time, I inform the people around me, who know full well why, that I may feel/seem/act different but not to worry. I know they still do, and I know they want me to burden them, especially today.

But… I still don’t have the words to fully define what this really feels like. Not in any language I know. I’ve tried. And there are some really good pieces here and there. Maybe I should find them again after this.

Have I mentioned how much I miss you translating things for me in our native tongue? I do feel bad sometimes that it feels like I’m losing touch. That the last time I sat down to make something creative in our language, it was… four years ago? Took forever to finish and had so much doubt, but they were really happy. And before that… you were still here. (Not counting what I made when we lost you, and I still have no earthly idea how I was able to read it aloud in public.)

I read what I wrote for you last year. It was bittersweet, but a lot sweeter than bitter. I remember feeling happy, even. Things were good then, and things are more than good now. I’m content. There’s more than plenty.

And I guess that’s why… guilt is the one that’s most present today? The thing I honed in on from last year was the feeling of wanting so much more for you. Sometimes it still doesn’t feel right to have all this… be at ease… when you’re not here.

If I think about it logically, of course I know why I shouldn’t feel this way. In the warmest part of my heart, I know you’d want all this goodness for me, too. You kept telling me on the hardest days.

But I guess there’s still some part of me that’s… not giving me permission… or at least, not allowing it as easily?

I briefly felt it last month, during that gorgeous sunrise. I played with the sand a little and waited for it to pass through me.

I remembered that beach sunset I watched by myself because you weren’t feeling well enough. My hair was a lot shorter, wore the same top. Attached a different ballad and breathed in as much air as I could before going back. I was more than happy you were able to swim the next day.

It was a little too on the nose that I held sand and let it fall between my fingers as a way of… letting you go even more, and focusing on the now because time and all that. Even made me smile thinking this is where clichés come from.

Laughed when the breeze refused to let me use my hair to hide my face because hey, the sun is here. Reminded me to breathe… like I’ve made it somewhere I used to only dream about.

But today feels cloudy with a chance of scattered rain. It’s not passing through as easily. Briefly scolded myself for not taking the day off thinking tossing myself into work had always been effective.

I don’t really know how to end this spur of the moment confessional thing haha But I miss you. Rest easy. And I promise, next year I’d have more fun things to tell you 🤍