It’s been one year since my best friend died.
Am I supposed to be okay by now? I don’t know. I’m better. I can say the words out loud “Jimi died.” I can listen to about three Phish songs before I break down. I don’t cry every day anymore.
But I still really, really, fucking miss my friend. Every day, several times a day, for the last 365 motherfucking days.
I don’t feel at peace with what happened. I still struggle to accept that I’ll never hear his voice again. I don’t have that calm “This is the way things are supposed to happen.” peaceful acceptance. Maybe someday.
But it didn’t happen this year.