For Sammy...

I'm not ready to sleep. To close my eyes and open them on the day we lost you. I don't want to write that it's been a year. You've been gone a year. Every memory after today is including a time you weren't there.

I'm told I should be handling this better. My grief should be lessing. Some are losing patience with me. But, the truth is, some days it is better. And then a memory eases in and I'm a Hot Mess in zero to 60...

I miss you every day. Most days I breath. Some days I struggle with just that. Breathing.

If only saving you had been as simple as ensuring you were wearing proper safety equipment for whatever adventure we were embarking on when you were a year old...

But Life. And we failed you. I failed you. And we've lived a whole year without you. And I never got to say goodbye...