I understand why people would love to believe in a heaven. That hope that there is an afterlife. That life has meaning. That things happen for a reason and that this isn't the end. It's comforting. But it isn't to me. Not having hope is not the same as being hopeless. Life is intrinsic and so precious all on its own. I've learned that again and again since you left. It matters simply because it exists, and because we exist. And that is something we cannot waste or ever forget.
But the idea of a heaven sounds nice sometimes, when I'd like to think you're off somewhere doing something else. That you're happy existing in a better place and that the grief we went through was almost worth it if it meant you were okay somewhere else. But I can't bring myself to believe in something that is ridiculous to me just so I can delude myself into thinking that you still exist, even if it's in a different form. This life is enough, and I remember that every day, in part for you, but mostly because of all the things this world has to offer.
It's been a year and a half...it's a new normal that I've finally started to get used to and thrive in. I try to take the best parts of you and make them a part of me. You were so fearless.
I still remember you daily, and I wonder who you'd be right now.
