Ten Years On

I missed your anniversary this year. How did I manage to miss the anniversary of your death – your suicide? why this year? It’s the first time I have missed it completely and not marked it somehow. Does this mean that I’ve finally let go of you? Is letting go of you something I can even do? How does one even let go of someone like you? After everything that came before your death, and everything that followed, how do I simply…forget to mark your passing?

I don’t understand the how or why of it. I simply know that I forgot. Perhaps I was too caught up in my own upheaval and uncertainty and anxiety.

I’d ask you to forgive me, but you can’t – the dead can’t forgive. It’s my own guilt that I have to deal with, its my guilt at having forgotten. My own guilt at all me things I can never say, never do, and never make up to you.

And so, I write this to mark your anniversary, the anniversary no one should have to mark. The anniversary, of the day you took your own life. And to remind myself, that despite he years, despite everything, I still miss you.

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