I catch my breath when the realisation hits that you are no longer here. And it happens often. It feels like both a terrible night's dream, and also a lifetime since you've been gone. Like it was yesterday, but also very far away. A foggy memory. Like when you wake up in a new room and it takes a moment to remember where you are and what ceiling you're staring at. This is my new reality. And while I have made peace with many parts of it, there are some that will never sit right. Like Christmas, and birthdays, and milestones, and the very small every day moments that make me want to call you. And then the realisation again. The realisation that I can't. I can look at photos of you for hours and reminisce about all the times I thought you were the most wonderful human in the world. I can tell stories about who you were, what you loved, how you cared so deep that it broke your heart. But I will never hear your voice again, never hold you again, never laugh with you again over silly things. Never cry with you again. What do I do with all these "nevers"? Where do I put them? But. I see you in sunsets and moonrises, on beach walks and long drives on open roads. I hear you in bird song and ocean waves, in 80's pop music and in the silence while diving underwater. You are the most beautiful parts of this life. And maybe this is the only solace I will find - That you are here, just not in the way I would choose. But maybe in a way that is far less painful, for you. I carry your heart in my heart. And you are still so very loved, even though you are far away. You were always, so very loved.