It's hard to believe it's been an entire year.
It seems like only yesterday we coloured your hair pink, but in comparison it feels like it has been forever since I felt one of your hugs. So much has happened in the year since you died, so many times I wanted to call you and tell you about my day. It is an impulse that will always be there; you were always the first person I told about everything.
I still tell you, I just don't need a phone to do it.
I miss you, but you are always with me. I channel you more and more as each day goes by--when I laugh, it is your laughter I hear; when I chat up the person next to me in line at the grocery store, it is you who is being friendly to a stranger; when one of my customers flirts with me on the phone it is you they are flirting with.
There have been some dark days this past year--it's been a tough road for this family--but we have made it through. I know you would have been proud of me, of all of us. We've lost so much, but gained a stronger bond with each other. I know you'd want to be there to comfort us, but we find strength somehow just in the knowing.
Is it strange I still want to be a better person for you? A better daughter, sister, niece, partner, friend. I still strive to make you proud of me, even though you're no longer here to see my efforts. I want to be that person you always believed I could be.
It's a work in progress.
Maybe it always will be.