Every year I think I am going to be okay. I think that it has been three years and grief cannot possibly still be hanging around. And then as it gets closer, I start to remember the night it happened. I remember the knock on the door and the terrible news from my mother. She stood there sobbing and I remember I couldn’t catch my breath. I sat in his room and looked at the photos on his wall and wondered what a world could possibly look like without him in it.
I remember all of these things and I think maybe I won’t be okay when this day finally comes. Except it is here and I know that I am fine because I also have the memories of a boy who made me laugh and who taught me to be adventurous and live a daring and awesome life. He is with me every time I dare to step outside of my comfort zone and I am so thankful to have him there.
To Mark, who taught me how to live.
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