I miss all of you. So much it hurts. Someone will say something or do something a certain way, and I wish so badly to tell you about it because I know you'll get a kick out of it. Then once again, the pain of losing you hits me like a thousand bricks and sometimes even hurts more than the day you left. I know you're all watching over me from up above, so there's not much I can say that you haven't already seen or heard. But there was a time last year when I was driving back to college after visiting my sister and her boyfriend, and Cole Swindell's song "You Should Be Here" came on the radio. As I sang horribly off-key to the song, tears came down my face. Pretty soon my vision started to slightly blur. (I know I should have pulled off the side of the road; scold me later.) What you didn't know is I started thinking of all the things you have missed out on: my siblings and I's graduation from high school, my brother's graduation from college, my cousin becoming a parent, and so on, and of the things you will never get to see: my brother and sister getting married and the possible children they have, my graduation from college, Mom's graduation from college, my cousin getting married, and so on.
But what helped me get through is this thought right here: just because you have left my side here on Earth doesn't mean you've left me completely. I see pieces of you in each day. I see you in my parents (your kids). I see you in my siblings and cousins, laughing over the good times spend together with you. I see parts of your essence captured in old photographs. I see you in the little moments when I reminisce times we shared together. I see you when family members tell stories about you to keep your memory alive. I feel you with me when I wear the necklace handed down to me that Grandpa originally gave to Grandma. I feel you beside me when I go to church on Sunday mornings. I feel you beside me when I'm struggling, urging me to pick myself up, brush myself off, and keep marching on.
Sometimes it's hard. I get caught up in stress and classes and homework and work that I forget your presence beside me at all times. It's those times when my mom reminds me that you're watching over me from above (she's right, of course). She forgets that you're not just watching from above; you are also by my side, your voice runs through my mind and heart. Most importantly, you're there when I look in the mirror. Sometimes, I will admit, you're hard to see because I'm just looking at my outward appearance. But you're there when I stare at my reflection and see my work ethic, my kindness for others, my willingness to speak up, my want to help those in need, my extreme attention to detail, and I see the woman who you helped shape me to be.
I will live out my time here as much and as hard I can, and I will see you soon. That is a promise. Because I'm sure there will be much I will need to talk to you about.
Love always,
The woman you're watching over
