You know what I'll miss? I'll miss your laugh. The way it always filled the room. Even in the deepest winters and darkest moments, it was enough to melt the heart —bursting with this ferocious enthusiasm and contagious sense of urgency to embrace life and live in the now.
You know what I'll remember? I'll remember rushing down the basketball court, sweat dripping down my forehead and slicking my hands, and looking over to see you in the bleachers smiling back. I'll remember the countless mornings I spent in my college's radio studio, and how you were always the first (and oftentimes, the only person) to call into my 6 a.m. shift. You always requested Rod Stewart. I love you for that.
You know what I'll hold? I'll hold onto the eternal sense of youth you gave me. Everyday I spent with you, I was 5 years old again and the world was our playground.
I will never forget the Thanksgiving we hosted in the hospital after you got sick. We plugged our crockpots into an outlet in the waiting room, and spent the next few hours shuffling back and forth to your room. It's one of my favorite memories together. In a time when we were face-to-face with the eternal truth of impermanence and mortality, your playful disposition never changed. You continued to tell jokes through the night, until all of the onsite staff dropped by to catch a glimpse of your standup routine.
You know what I’ll carry? I’ll carry with me your eternal and endless love. I am so grateful to have shared the past 22 years of my life with you. You are the light of my life. Thank you for always reminding and encouraging me to live, love, expand, explore and connect. To live in a place of authenticity and to embrace it unapologetically.
I love and miss you so much already.