One year.

One year and the nightmare hasn’t ended.

One year of wishing it is just a nightmare. That it will eventually be over.

One year of not knowing how to feel anything but being sad. Sometimes angry. One year of not being able to do anything without thinking “I wish I could share this with you.”

One year of regrets. Regretting not talking to you more. Not going back home more often to spend time with you. Not spending more time with you when I was back home. (Not playing padel tennis with you.) Regretting having to discover things about you without having the chance to talk to you about it. One year of regretting not listening to you more often. I had so much to learn from you.

One year of regretting not getting up to hug you when you walked away for the last time.

One year of hanging to every memory we have. Being heart broken it sometimes took me a couple of days to respond to you. I became much worse btw. I could learn a lot from you. But sometimes, it feels like it doesn’t really matter anymore.

One year of missing your kind heart. Your genuine smile. The only smile you had. One year of missing your loud laugh. And your quiet one. Your giggle. Your burdened voice. One year of wishing I could have learnt more from you. One year of missing the passion in how you spoke of things. One year of looking up to you.

One year of reliving those two days — over, and over, again.

One year of living in your shadows.

One year of appreciating everything you were doing without taking credit for. One year of realizing how much you did. One year of realizing I could never do a small percentage of anything you were doing. One year of realizing every day how impossible it is to fill your shoes. One year of thinking it would have been easier for mama if it were me instead.

One year of realizing how much you meant. One year of living in denial.