It’s the holiday season, which means a lot of things. It means everyone is feeling excited and cozy, and things feel busy and stressful. And I always loved the holidays until you died. And the holidays now have a sting. They might always hurt a little, even if the joy of the holidays is slowly happening for me a little more each year. The holiday season means holiday parties–which means, you aren’t here to go with me. The other night I went to a work-related party and I looked around the room and realized no one there had ever met you. Only two of the people even knew me before you died. That was weird. And then I felt this deep grief over the fact that you were not here to go with me. I wanted to show you off. I wanted people to experience your friendly personality and your ability to have a conversation about anything. I wanted to yell, “I had a boyfriend who was super smart and funny, and you would have all loved him but he is dead!” But I kept that little fact to myself. I try not to be that much a buzzkill. The holiday season also means my birthday. And that is always a little tough without you. I am in my 30s, Boris! I still can’t believe you are not here to do our 30s together.
I will always miss you extra this time of year. I need you here to buy you Christmas gifts and to make you take photos in front of the tree. I need you here to help me be less sad about turning 32. I need you here to go to parties together and ring in the new year with a kiss. I need you here.
I love you.