Fuck this.

Fuck that this has to be my life.

Fuck that I have to realize it every single day, and there’s nothing that I can do about it.

I hate thinking about the things that I wish I had known, the things that I wish I had changed. I hate how I immediately reacted; I wish I had had a little more idea of what to do, for the chance to be there sooner.

I hate a new year, just another fucking year to be thinking about it.

I hate my birthday, cause it’s pointless now.

I hate your birthday.

Fuck all, I hate September 1. I also hate that it’s usually Labor Day weekend, when I have to balance something else alongside these deep feelings.

I hate that every time I have a question about something, I have to search it, rather than have a reason to call.

I hate super unleaded gas. It was the first time, five years ago, that I had a question and realized I could no longer call you and ask. Now I see it, and I just drive to another station.

I hate that I didn’t take enough photos or videos, cause I want them more than ever.

I miss the first words you’d say when you picked up the phone.

I miss talking about the Red Wings and how it “came down to coaching,” and I wish I could say it’s not coaching anymore.

I miss the plans we had.

I miss how it felt to hug you.

I wish he could see what I’ve become, what I find important, and the passions I have.

I wish he could meet the person I’ll choose to spend the rest of my life with.

I wish I didn’t have to live every day knowing that it will never be as good as it could be.

I wish more people had met you.

I wish each night that I’d have one more dream with you in it.

I wish that each time I cry, it hits me as hard as it did five years ago, as if I’m transported back to that time and closer to when you were here.

I hope that I find something else of yours that I missed, and it surprises me.

I hope that when I get to talk about you, it keeps your memory alive in more people than just me.

I hope you enjoyed coming to the Tour de France and your grandparents’ hometown, where a part of you will always be.

I hope I never lose any of these feelings, as much as they hurt.

I’m grateful for everything you ever did.

I’m grateful for the pain, as it’s given me more perspective than anything else could have.

I’m grateful for the ears that listen, the arms that hold, the shoulders that bear the weight of my head, and the many sleeves that have dried my tears.

I’m grateful for the tears, all the unexpressed love that I wasn’t able to give.

I want more days where I feel like you’re with me.

I want to know that you’re proud.

I want more surprise memories that take me back, destroy my day, and leave me crying into the couch.

I want to keep talking about you, my experience, and how it’s changed my life.

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I never know how to express it, but I’ve always wanted to. This is seemingly the best that I can do. Maybe someday I’ll be able to pull together more, but who knows when. For now, this is how it feels every day for the last five years. I expect it’ll feel this way for the next 5 years, 50 years, every other day until I see him again.