One Year Without You, Lindsay.

One year. My heart feels so heavy. I miss you. I want you here. I can’t tell you how many times this past year I desperately wanted and NEEDED to text you and talk to you. If your messages didn’t go directly to Chris, I might have just sent it anyway, even knowing there would be no answer. I miss your wisdom and insight. I miss your humor and smile. I miss being able to ask you “mom” questions. I miss your sisterly advice and the way you cared for me like a sister. I miss being with you, your hugs, your smile, and dimples, your laughter. Christmastime was especially emotional for me. I found myself crying a lot. Grieving your lost presence in our family. Grieving that your kids didn’t have you around. Grieving that I don’t have you anymore. 

Grief is hard and weird. You can have one day where you are so full of joy and happiness and something can trigger you to remember that loss and pain you are feeling missing someone. The deeper we love, trust, and build relationships with people, the bigger opportunity for grief and pain. It makes it harder to accept that you are gone. While grief is painful, I am so thankful that I had a relationship with you.

This past year has been weird for me. I have been so hyper-aware of losing loved ones. Between you and my sister, I have begged and pleaded with God not to take anyone else yet. Including my pets. I feel like I am more aware of every precious moment and I try my best to live into each moment. I try really hard to tell people “I love you”. Not love ya, or heart ya. All the ways we try to get around those three words. They are so important. To know that there are people we love and that love us. I am trying to be gentle, loving, forgiving, and present with people. Losing you and my sister has made me more aware of a better way to live.

After we lost you, I listened to a radio show host talk about you and read some of your writing. I completely lost it. I decided it was too hard to hear your writing and not be able to have you here. But, for the last few weeks, I have been yearning for your voice. I think I am ready. But, I am also ill-prepared for the emotions that I am sure will follow. 

I often think and pray for your family, for their loss and pain. I know it is much deeper than my own since they loved you and knew you for your whole life. This was never something any of us anticipated or expected and it just doesn’t feel right. I hope they can remember you in a beautiful way today. 

I love you and miss you, Lindsay.