Today is the day that marks a year. A year since he took his life...he would have turned 33 today.
I don't know what to say about feels almost blasphemous to describe him as a person, in words...misses the expressions, the turmoil, the intentness. Struggling to conjure up some regurgitated, poetic piece about him...there's just so much more.

I don't want to get into the gory details. I just want to say...I wish I could have told him I love him, even just once. I think he understood. I think he knew. I knew him my entire life. I don't believe he lives on as a spirit, ghost, guardian angel or soul...but I have this indescribable feeling that somehow, he doesn't cease to exist. More than memory...often, I just think of him as a person. Who he was, is, could be, and whatever that means. Our perspective(s) are powerful.

He is my audience every time I pick up the bass and play. He was the one who got me to dedicate myself to it in the first place...the feelings that arise are overwhelming, and yet I keep playing. Somehow, in some way, it's relaxing, too.

I miss you.