I miss you. It’s been more than 2 months since you passed. You missed my birthday. You missed Nanny’s 80th. I don’t blame you for any of it, and I hope you saw these days.

I hope you see every day. The good and the bad. I hate to admit that there have been both. I hate that there are still bad days, I know that’s not what you wanted for us. I hate that there are good days; it’s been 2 months – how could there be ‘good days.’

Paul, I hope you understand (understood). I don’t know whether to bury the past or carry it with me? There is a straightforward answer: you are the past now and it’s best I carry that with me. But it’s not so simple, or else it wouldn’t be a question.

Should I let go of everyone I met before I knew of your struggles (maybe they distracted me)? Should I let go of our parents (how could they let you go and make me stay)? What should I do (maybe you knew the answer but I’m afraid you didn’t)?

I will never know the answers, that’s a truth that I wish you never showed me. Paul, I love you. Everyone wishes you were back. I hope you found something that I can’t imagine but will discover, in due time.

And in the flip side, I wish you learned how full life is. At 23, I don’t understand, which makes me all the more sure you didn’t know at 19. Still, I hope I can show you now while it’s too late. How to take the good with the bad; the beautiful with the ugly. I hope you see.

When I meet you (in due time), I hope we can share stories of the different paths we took. I hope neither was better than the other.

But most of all I hope I get to see you again.