Nobody puts baillee in the corner

It’s been two years, to the day, since my best friend, confidant, and mom died. 

And, I wish I could tell you it’s gotten easier. 

I wish I could say that I’ve powered through my grief, and I’ve come out the other side. 

But, it’s just not true. 

Grief isn’t something you scratch off your to-do list at the end of a busy week. 

It’s an ongoing affliction that flares up whenever it likes. 

There’s no cure all, and the phrase “time heals all wounds” is bullshit. 

Thanks for that one, Lisa Frankenstein. 

There are so many things in my life I’d love to hear KP tell me she’s proud of me for. 

She’ll never get to watch a video I’ve made. 

She’ll never get to read another piece I’ve written. 

She’ll never get to hear about my day again. 

And, for lack of a better phrasing, it fucking breaks my heart. 

I still cry myself to sleep some nights. 

I still grab my phone to call or text you when I need advice. 

I still have the Wonder Woman keychain you bought me from The Lego Store because you picked it up and said, “That’s you.” 

When I close my eyes, I still see you waiting at the train station for me. 

With a smile bigger than your entire person.  

I still feel guilty that I didn’t ask a friend if we could stop for fudge from Buc-ee’s on the way to your apartment. 

And that was the last time I saw you conscious. 

Outside of coming home to say goodbye, it’s the last thing you ever asked me for. 

I still remember our last visit when you knew I had to leave, but you asked me to stay. 

I would give anything to go back and have stayed just five minutes longer with you. 

But, I also know that five more minutes would never be enough. 

That’s why I don’t know if I could ever have one last call or one last conversation with you. 

It would almost be cruel. 

I’d be lying if I said I knew how to handle life without you. 

I don’t — plain and simple. 

I don’t know where to turn when I’m hurting or excited. 

I don’t know how much or how little to text my loved ones because I knew you welcomed every interaction. 

I don’t always know when to trust my gut because you were always my voice of reason. 

But, I’m trying. 

You’ll always be part of me, and I will always miss you. 

For KP, for always. 🖤