everything reminds me of him

The green in leaves and on the mountainside. The colour of the sky.The trees we used to walk past. I miss him in the mornings when I wake to a world without him. I miss him each time I wish I could tell him something. I miss the way we were constantly connected, his presence pulsing through me like a heartbeat. I miss him when others hurt me, knowing how fiercely and fearlessly he would have fought for me. I miss the way we knew each other, how sure we were of—the kind of security people search their whole lives for. I rarely look at our letters and texts now because they are always a twisted knife within me, cliche though it may sound. Yet sometimes I want to anyway, when I miss him, even knowing it will make me miss him more.

Because he was more than my child, more than a friend. He said I was his soul, and he was mine. Such a bond can never be understood by anyone outside of us, and that’s lonely, too, in a way. I miss him today and every day, forever and always.