Memories are a fickle thing.
One would think that I’ve written to you and about you extensively over the past two years. But I have always feared that if I stopped, my mind would betray me and I will forget. I always hope that I can retain all our good memories. You weren’t perfect. I wasn’t either. But we did our best. Even though I always felt like I could have done better.
There’s still so many things I wish I could have said, and things that have happened where I wished you were there. But words always stay at the tip of my tongue. The rare chance when they do come, words never seem enough.
I miss you.