Dear Brian,

It’s July now. The air is hot, and the beach is calling to me, the way it called to us. I haven’t been yet, mostly because I haven’t had time. And because I’m sure it won’t be the same without you.

Facebook has been showing me pictures of us. They hurt, but not as much as they did before. Sometimes, I’m even happy to see them, if only for a few moments. The pain that comes after is almost sharper for the happiness. Odd how that happens.

We held a “No shit, there I was with Argus” memorial Friday night at Palio, and the stories were so much fun. You would have loved to see all the people there. Bill and Maggie and April all came up, and even Murphy (Gwen’s dog) had a story. It wouldn’t have been a memorial without at least one story about a dog. You loved them so much.

The burial was beautiful too – and then we went to your favorite restaurant. Shawn and Kathy came up this past weekend and we went again. I haven’t been back to your grave yet, but I’m planning on going soon. I need my first visit to be alone, for reasons. Not that I don’t appreciate everything KJ and Dad have done for me, but this is something I need to do on my own.

It’s such a pretty graveyard, especially in the summer. Dad says there’s all sorts of wildlife that come through, and it’s peaceful. After the hectic life we led, I’m thinking you’re enjoying the peace. One day, I’ll be there with you, and we can sit and picnic and watch the years go by.

I miss you, my love. I miss you more and more every day, as I see things I want to share with you. I almost sent you a picture of a yellow VW Bug yesterday, before I remembered that you wouldn’t text me back, accusing me of cheating because you weren’t there to see it. I can’t pass a McDonald’s without hearing your voice teasing me.

And now I need to go, or I’ll dissolve into tears here at the hospital, and I don’t want to do that. So I’ll wipe my cheeks, swallow my sorrow, and go write something else. But my heart will still hurt.

Love, me