Today marks one year since I got that awful text message. The past couple days have been hard for me. Honestly, a lot harder than I expected. Every time I tried to relax, my thoughts drifted to you. We weren’t close.. I hadn’t saw you in a couple years, but I grew up with you. I played baseball in the backyard with you. I watched you get ready for prom. I watched you wash your face before school every morning. Those are my memories and they are all I have.
One year later and I still don’t know what to say or think. It is still so hard to believe that you are gone. Not even so much that you are gone, but that you were taken away from us. The biggest struggle for me hasn’t changed- it’s the question of what happened, what your last moments were like, the horror that I know you endured. I don’t want to know, but I can’t help but see the images in my mind. No one deserves that. No one. My anger has lessened a bit over the past year- it’s part of the process from what I hear. The pain hasn’t lessened at all though. It’s like a punch in the gut every time I think of you. Certain songs come on the radio and I feel the tears sting the back of my eyes. Then, I look at Bella and I wonder how your mom has gone on. I can’t imagine. If I hurt this badly over losing you, I don’t want to think about how your mama feels. Parents aren’t supposed to bury their children- that’s what they say. All I could manage to say to your mom was that you were beautiful and that we shouldn’t be at the funeral home. I felt awkward standing there pregnant and with a toddler when a woman I loved was burying her daughter. A daughter that never even got the chance to have children of her own. I would later find out that the child I was carrying was a girl. I was terrified at first. I would think of you and ask God to just give me another son. Thankfully, He knew better and blessed us with a gorgeous little girl, Bella. I wish you knew her and Bryson. I wish you would have had the chance to get married, to have kids, and then maybe we’d become closer and have play dates. A lot of wishes. None that will ever come true. I love you, beautiful woman. I miss you. I think of you every single day and I’m trying to do my part to get the word out about domestic violence. That’s all I know to do, really.