To whom it may concern,

I don't miss you more today than I do any other day. If there is any difference it is only because I know I am supposed to be more aware of you absence from my life on this day. Sometimes I forget that you are gone. I go to say something about you, and then realize my mistake.
There were times when I used to sob quietly in my bed at night, muffling the sound of my anguish so that no one would hear my pain. I don't cry for you anymore, but that doesn't mean I miss you any less. I never realized how much of a role you played in my life until you weren't there to play it anymore. There are so many things I wish you could be around to witness. I wanted you to see the person I was becoming. I wanted you to be proud of the person I was becoming. I wanted you to lecture the first boy I brought home, when I decided I finally liked one enough to bring home. I wanted to roll my eyes as you gave him the third degree, and disclosed information about me that caused me to turn red with embarrassment.
I worry that I'll forget the sound of your voice, or the way you smelled. That I won't always be able to close my eyes and see your faces smiling back at me. I think back to all the times I saw your name on the display as the phone rang and decided just to let the machine get it so that I didn't have to deal with any inane conversation. "If I'd only known," I think "I would have answered. I would have answered every question you posed and I would have done it gladly." There are so many "if only"s now when it comes to you. If only I'd know that I would never get the chance to see your faces again. If only I'd known that I'd never hear you say my name another time. If only I'd known that it was the last time I'd be able to wrap my arms around you. I would have memorized the details of your faces. I would have listened just a little bit better. I would have held on just a little bit longer. I would have held you just a little bit tighter. I would have told you so many things that I never got to tell you, that I thought I had more time to tell you.
I'm a hypocrite, you know. I've judged other people for their grief, and yet I am still not finished dealing with mine. I have come to learn that loss is loss, no matter what you lose. Grief is grief, no matter what you're grieving for. And pain is pain, no matter where it hurts. You can't say that someone else's pain is better or worse than your own. It's different. It's all different, and it cannot be so easily classified as to label it better or worse.
I lied when I said I don't cry for you anymore. In unguarded moments, my tears catch me by surprise. Three years feels like forever and yet like no time at all. I don't miss you more today than I do any other day, but I find my eyes red and puffy all the same.