Grief. It's a strange thing. I've heard that it gets easier with time. I don't think it does. Seconds pass, and turn into minutes, and then you're minutes further away from the last time you heard her voice, the last time her hand felt warm in yours. The time between you and her, it's flung apart like an ocean. Grief doesn't get easier, you just get so used to the ache, that it's part of you, like the freckles on your skin.
I've always been scared of being left behind. Scared that I'd forget. What if I wanted to picture you in my mind, but I parted your hair on the wrong side? The scary thing about losing the people you love the most is that often it happens when you don't expect it. If I'd known the last time I saw you was the last time, would I have been able to think of anything better to say than, "Thank you"? Thank you for being you.
I could never say goodbye to you. I have memories of you and I. Sometimes, I think that if I took all of those memories, maybe I'd be able to stretch them to forever. I could never say goodbye to you, because part of you, well, it must be part of me. You taught me everything I know really, and everything I learned by myself, I only learned from loving you, and missing you.