Today is Memorial Day. How fitting.

It's been 1,346 days since losing Nicholas, and so much has changed, yet nothing has changed. It all happened yesterday.

I made the mistake of listening to music today. 

"Now, I think back on those times, I didn't read between the lines. How all the things that you said, never seemed to match the things you did."

I look at photos and wonder how I let this happen. Why didn't I see you were hurting? Why didn't I see you were sinking? Why didn't anyone?

When I stop long enough to feel or listen to music, September 22, 2018, was yesterday. How am I supposed to live with this much pain? How do I live without one of my children?

"Tell me just one more time the reasons that you must leave. Tell me once more why you don't need me. Tell me again but don't think that you've convinced me."

My book will publish soon, and I wish more than anything that I didn't have the inspiration to write it. I wish I could give it back and that this story wasn't mine. I wish your legacy weren't a lesson. Unequivocally, you for a book is a fucked up tradeoff.

I heard an interview with a chef today before I made the mistake of turning on the Monkees and thought of your dreams that dropped from the sky like a bomb the day you died. The day my dreams for you detonated before my eyes.

"As far as I can see,

There's no reason for goodbyes,

You're just running scared,

And that's something I won't buy."

Do you remember dance nights? It was one of the few things I did right. You probably remember the "coming out of my cage" song. And maybe, What Am I Doing Hanging Round? Or Auntie Grizelda. But somehow, causing the rest of us to cringe, you liked Maroon 5.

Why didn't you talk to me sooner, Nicholas? Why didn't you talk to me sooner?

"So, you lose, I won't let you go with nothing to show but more blues. And all this talk about leaving is strictly bad news."

Hey Nicholas, I just wanted to let you know I love you and I miss you.