It’s been a while since you died.
We had a plague. We acted like it went away, but it never really did.
I left most social media. I can’t bring myself to delete my accounts, because they still follow yours. I can’t bring myself to break those ties, as insubstantial as they are. I never log in, though. I always feel worse when I do. Nowadays anything that ends up there is because I set up a cross-poster from the things I DO still use.
We have a nephew, now. Your brother already had kids before you died, but he moved away and we never got to hang out in person. You kept in touch through Facebook, I know, but keeping in touch was what you did. It’s not a skill I’ve ever been good at. Anyway, I think you’d like my sister’s kid. I wish he could know you.
I had to get rid of your car. The engine started stalling out at the worst times, making it too dangerous to drive. You wouldn’t like the new car, but it does what it needs to do and the mpg is a lot more efficient.
I stopped playing Warcraft and Neverwinter. You were my partner in those games. They aren’t fun without you.
I gathered a bunch of friends and we play Dungeons and Dragons together when life permits. They tolerate me when I share stories about you. Some of them knew you, and we rejoice that we got to know your radiance. They miss you, too.
I still miss you. So very much.