It’s raining and I miss you so much my stomach hurts. I saw three beautiful butterflies last week that made me think of you. There are lots of flowers everywhere I go and I think of you. I had a great time visiting my family and I ate curry and roti and I thought of you. But I look at my new apartment and realize you’ve never been here before. I wear your necklace everywhere and pretend you’re still here, but I can’t hear your voice. I can’t see your face except for 2D pictures I have on my desk and on my phone and on my wall. I was fine until it rained today. It’s almost been a year. It feels like it’s been an eternity. It’s easier to bottle it up because I can cope. I can focus on work and busy myself with adventures and months can go by, but deep down I know I can never call you and share my day with you. I’m so grateful for the peace that I’ll see you again, but losing you left a void that can’t be filled. Is this Loss? Acceptance? Grief? All? That when our loved ones go, they leave a hole in our hearts and empty, cold hands? Knowing Loss makes me sad every time I have to say goodbye to a friend or family member. It makes me uncharacteristically afraid of opening up about sad things because I am a happy person. I’m supposed to be happy. That’s who Sarah is and has always been. But I’m sad because I miss you, Gramma. I long for the day when we never have to say goodbye.