It's been a hard day. No particular reason...it just has. I started crying, randomly, because I can't call you. See you. Talk to you. Tell you about our day. Call...for no reason at all, but to hear your voice. Make you laugh with stories of the kids' latest antics. Get advice from you, that I won't listen to, knowing that you'd never say, "I told you so!"
Every time I think I've dealt with your loss and I don't hurt anymore, I find that I haven't...and I do. You're missing out on so much of our lives and I so wish we could share it all with you. Life has changed, and is still changing, so fast. It would take a long lunch at Noodles & Company to catch you up on it all.
I found a journal entry in your box of things, about Josh and I. It was surreal to see your handwriting and so refreshing to read your loving words. I'm thankful that, even then, you felt the way you did and supported us no matter what. I haven't been through all the boxes we have been given, yet. I can only take it for a few minutes at a time, before it becomes overwhelming.
I know you are happy and healthy and for that, I am grateful. I only wish that I could see you one more time. Hug you, one more time. Tell you thank you and I love you, one more time.