It's days like these that I miss you most.
It isn't a bad day. Really, it's rather good. It's one of those days that reminds me of you.
This day reminds me of climbing mountains. It reminds me of frisbee on the beach. It reminds me of a long drive home, even longer talks, and for some reason, Celine Dion. It reminds me of sitting in a car in a back alley, letting Cody fog up the car windows because it's too wet to roll them down.
Today reminds me of sudden downpours and "stories we'll tell our grandchildren." It reminds me of a Reuben sandwich and a lazy stroll.
Really, today reminds me of you.
Most days I'm fine. After all this time I can usually go a while without thinking of you, without remembering how much fun we used to have. Then a day like this hits me. It comes without warning and it leaves me shell shocked. I'm left for days wondering why, how, what happened.
Sometimes I tell myself you're on vacation. You're just gone for a while, but you'll call me soon. Then I tell myself it's over, you're gone. Sometimes I'm really angry at you. How could you leave like that? Then I just miss you and wish I could help you out. Sometimes I think I see you. Is that you on that bicycle? Did you get a new car? That girl at Barnes and Noble looks a lot like you. Upon closer inspection, though, I see it's all just my imagination.
I just want you to know that I do miss you. I think we all do. I miss the laughing, the talking, the general understanding. I miss you.