I still have one-sided conversations when I walk home, thinking what you’d say to me about what I did at work, who I felt upset with, and the problems that may be so trivial but get me all riled up for a good half day. I miss you.
Our grief isn’t as raw as last year, well at least I hope so. We’ve been getting by quite fine, with the occasional “we aren’t eating much vegetables” realisation as we wake up just in time to scoff down our toast and gulp that hot mug of honey water.
I meet different people every month. I wonder if you’d like them. Some make me laugh, some make me frown. I wonder if you’d wring your hands like I do, as I watch my country seemingly stretching itself at the seams, because people want change. I know you’d understand the bittersweet love we hold for our country, even if the disparaging voices just seem ever so loud now.
I miss you. I really do. I have been so blessed to have been your daughter. I hope you’re having fun wherever you are.