It’s been well over three months. Three months. And 15 days to be exact. Three months and 15 days since you left. So many things have passed. So many things have changed.

I turned another year older.

And for the first time, you weren’t there. For the first time, the card from Grandma wasn’t signed from you as well. For the first time, you weren’t seated at the other end of the table. I couldn’t take a shot with my best friend. For the very first time, I felt exactly how empty my life was going to be without you. That’s when it all hit me. That’s when I realized a part of me went with you.

Thanksgiving came next.

It came and it went, and I honestly don’t even remember it because it was hardly a holiday.

But hardest yet was Christmas.

You weren’t there when we were cooking pierogi for the whole family. And my emptiness seemed to be shared with everyone else. It didn’t matter that we spent the whole night in the hospital with our uncle. What was off wasn’t the change of venue at all. Let's face it — we were all used to hospital waiting rooms and nurses running around. What was off was not the lack of courses. It wasn’t even the lack of presents for Christ’s sake. What was off was the missing person. Because we were all together, but somehow we weren’t all together, because you were somewhere else. It was just the fact that there was a little less Christmas spirit. I couldn’t see you smiling while we sang Christmas carols. I couldn’t smell your cologne and tell you how handsome you looked in your holiday outfit. You couldn’t tell all of your grandkids how breathtakingly beautiful we all looked. You weren’t there to wish me a carefree life like you did every year. I think I missed that most. You would always wish me to not work as hard, to have time to leisure and vacations, to live life in the moment. You wanted me to really live — to feel every moment and to be present in every moment. Yet since you left, all I’ve really felt is a missing puzzle piece.

I mean it’s been three months and 15 days. Not much in my life has changed.

I still have the same job. My room is still just as messy most days of the week. I still have the same friends, minus maybe a few. And I think I still seem to have the same spirit in everyone else's eyes. Except I know if you could come back and explain to everyone how I’m doing — from your view — you’d have a hard time getting those words past your lips. That thought really breaks my heart. You were always my biggest supporter, the reason for any outburst of laughter.

If you could tell everyone what’s changed most — it would be my smile. Since you left, it’s been a little less vibrant. At times, it even seems scarce.

I don’t think this would be all you disapprove of. I know there’s things you’re not proud of me doing. And I’m not proud either, yet somehow, in some bizarre way, I feel like you would justify it. I feel like you would say every thing is OK if I’m really happy. In all this time, I realize how distant I’ve become. I seem to not care or find it hard to. It’s hard without you. It’s hard going to visit family. It’s hard knowing you wont be there. It’s too hard. And people say time heals, but to me, time is like a magnifying glass showcasing all the things I won’t get to experience. I miss your smile the most. I miss when you would say something clever and wink at me when the least bit of judgment was passed about something in my life. I miss my biggest fan. I'll miss dancing with you at my wedding. I'll miss introducing you to the man I love. I'll miss all the jokes you would have told if you were still here.

And that’s all so selfish, isn’t it?

You were suffering for so long. Cancer didn't take it easy on you. It put you through so much pain. You were trying to hang on for everyone else, yet all I can think about is myself. How much I miss you. How much I miss your presence in my life. How much it sucks that the person who knew me best in this world is gone. Really gone. Who else is going to know me? Who else is going to get me like you? Who am I supposed to run to?

You know the worst thing about you being gone?

There are times when I’m making a sandwich or driving home from a store and I think to myself, “Oh, I have time to stop at Grandpa’s on my way.” Those brief moments before I have to remind myself that you won't be there; those brief moments are my living nightmare. Those moments haunt me the most. Those are the times I forget that my world didn’t come crashing down when I had to say goodbye to you and for a short, brief moment, everything seems to be OK again.

Three months and 15 days. One hundred and seven days.

All that time that has passed, yet, I feel like it was just last week that I held your hand. And in the blink of an eye, you became an angel. I will always feel that I never had enough time with you, but I keep thinking of all the people I don’t have enough time with. I keep thinking about getting closer to them, really being there with them like you would have wanted, but somehow I still cannot open up. Because none of them are you.

But it’s been three months and 15 days.

Somehow we all made it, and somehow we’ve all tried to move on with our routine lives. But somehow, somehow we’re all moving with a missing piece in our hearts.