It doesn’t matter that it’s been years since you’ve passed away. It doesn’t matter that half of thepeople that are now in my life have never even satisfied you. I still should be considered you all the time. I still wish you were here. After all, everything would be so different if you were still alive.

Of course, when I say ” everything ,” I don’t actually mean everything. Chances are, I’d still be living under the same roof and running the same undertaking. I’d still be dating the same boy and taking care of the same puppy. Merely little things would change, but the little things mean the most.

If you were still alive, I wouldn’t have to push thehappymemories away, because they’re too painful to replay in my brain. I’d just think of them and smile, and then pick up the phone to give you a call.

If you were still alive, I’d have one more person to introduce my boyfriend to. One more person to embarrass me with awkward tales about my childhood. One more person to welcome him into our fucking crazy family.

If you were still alive, then there would be one more voice cheeringover the fireworks onFourth of July. One more voice yelling at the baseballgame and one more voice singing along to whatever bullshit sung popped on the radio.

If you were still alive, there would be one less tattoo adorningmy torso. One lessdate that stimulated me burst into tearsevery single year.Your birthday would be the only date that reminded me of you, and we’d have a inferno of a good time celebrating.

If you were still alive, there’d be one more person for me to call whenever I required a designated motorist. One more person to screamat me for acting likean irresponsible child. One more person tomake me feel like I’d be missed if anything ever happened to me.

If you were still alive, there would be one more invitation to send out formy wedding. One more person to dance with when The Electric Slide flooded through the speakers. One more person to tear upand tell me how happy they are for me and my new hubby.

If you were still alive, I’d have one more person to show around my new apartment. One more person to dog-sit for me during weeklong vacations. One more person totell me that they’re proud of everything I’ve become.

If you were still alive, I wouldn’t have to talk to you through prayers or through my dreams. I could send you a text or write you a letter or just show up on your front stepin the middle of the goddamn nighttime, and you’d be happy to listen.

If you were still alive, I wouldn’t have pushed certain people away. I wouldn’t be as pessimistic andcold as I am now. I wouldn’t be so scared of losing person again, person I care about as much as you.

But if you were still alive, I might nothave realizedthat the whole” live eachday like it’s your last” mindsetis legit. That I need to treasure every momentwhile I still can and tell their own families I enjoy them as much as possible.

As much as I miss you, I’m thankful for what you taught me while you were here, and what you’re continuing to teach me now that you’re gone.

Holly Riordan is the author of the book.

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