My memorial to you.

The worst part about losing someone isn't the loss itself.

We don't feel pain equally. The worst part is understanding that as much pain as you're personally feeling, those closer to the person who is gone are feeling something more intense. Something more terrifyingly all-encompassing. It's empty and it's gnawing and it never grows smaller. There's a bubble in my chest that squeezes my lungs when I think of you. You were so good. And so genuine.

I hope you weren't afraid. It's the last thing I would wish for you-- I hope you died in peace, without pain, without fear. I can't imagine you afraid. I don't want to. Because imagining you afraid makes me so aware of how cowardly I am. When I think of you I see the parts of me that should be better. I should be stronger. Run faster. Push harder. Because I can. Because this is fragile-- it's all fragile.

It was impossible not to like you. You had life by the neck and you were shaking it. You were light and color and energy. I never saw you sad. I'm trying to understand this, but intellectually, I know there's nothing to understand. It is what it is. We'll change the world for you-- no, we'll rock the world for you.

Live life.

Love life.

We miss you.