I remember Sunday, November 18, 2007 like yesterday. You don’t forget the day your world changes forever. I was already broken before that day, but the trauma and ptsd of losing you has had a bigger ripple than I could have imagined as a naive 24 year old.

I hate November 18.

I especially hate when it’s a Sunday.

I hate that you died at 58.

I hate that it shattered me and I’m still picking up the pieces.

I hate that you’re not here.

I hate how so many people in my life never knew you.

I hate how much I miss you still.

I hate that I have to write a post like this for people to remember you or think of you.

I hate how surprised I am that I still get so sad on this day.