Dear Alexis,
So, how is it? You know, up there . . . in heaven. Is it really all puffy and white like we used to imagine? Back in the day all we thought about during the week of November the fourth was which candies we would eat first from our Halloween bowl.
Now I turn the page to November on my calendars reluctantly. I don't want to begin that first week with your death date in it. I don't want to be reminded of your absence every time I try to begin the eleventh month.
Is it mean for me to think that? I should want to remember you, right? We were close after all . . .
No one knows that on the fourth I say a little prayer for you. No one knows that on the fourth I keep a special little pack of tissues under my pillow in case I need them. No one knows that I still take your memorial flier out of my purple box and stare at that beautiful drawing of you and Jesus.
Is it normal for me to do that? It's perfectly acceptable to still be sad, right? Seven years isn't that long ago after all . . .
I wake up every fourth and pretend as if it is a normal day. (We all do) It's just easier that way. I'm pretty sure that in the back of our minds we all have you right there. No one will ever admit it though. It's just easier that way.
Is it mean for us to think that? We should want to remember you, right? We were all close after all . . .
I'm sort of glad we ended up moving away from the old house. Not because I'm trying to leave your memory behind. No, it's not like that! It's just because there was too much baggage back there. Everyone knew about it, everyone remembered it, and everyone tried to convince me everything was okay. I can only hear, "She's in a better place now," so many times.
Is it normal for me to be like that? It's perfectly acceptable to not want to be sad, right? Seven years is quite long ago after all . . .
It's five days away, and I realize that I'll have to go through another November fourth again. It's the same every year. I silently mourn for you, silently cry for you, and silently remember the days when you were still here. I guess I'll have to deal with it though. The past is the past, and though it's perfectly acceptable to still miss you and wish you were here, I'll always have the empty little space that you will always be remembered for filling.
I miss you.
Love,
Marissa
