Four years.

Four years since I’ve heard your contagious laugh, seen your face light up about football/family/Oreos, texted with you in the middle of the night (sleeplessness used to have its perks), been lovingly slapped around by your wisdom, and been impressed by your matchless potty mouth.

Four years.

So much has changed and yet so much is the same… The lists of things I wish I could talk to you about are too many to count. These years have held so much life, love, and loss, and it all feels a little less-real without you to tell it to. The sorrows feel more bitter and the joys less sweet, and my heart is heavy with the weight of all the things (both good and bad) that it wishes it could share with you.

Four years.

I’m thankful to have had in you in my life as long as I did. From the bombs you’d drop to the laughter that would ensue to the heart-talks late into the night to the tears we’d share, my life is richer, fuller, deeper, and a million times better because of you. And that is a gift I carry with me — no, you are the gift I carry with me — for always.

Four years.

The missing isn’t worse today — because I miss you and your perspective and your championing and your steadfastness every single day — so it’s not that it’s worse on significant days like this one… It’s just that it moves to the top of the pile. (Somehow, I know you’d get what I mean…)