Grayson,
I was doing well, forgetting about you. But I found one of your hoodies in the back of my closet. It still smells like you. It brings back all the memories I tried so hard to forget. And the funeral. I feel as if I'm back at the beginning. The dull ache I felt has turned back to the knife lodged deep in my chest. I'm crying myself to sleep again. It's hard to smile.
I found myself visiting your grave last week. Your empty grave. Sometimes I wish it wasn't empty. Then I could get closure. I could accept that you're gone and I could move on. But the tiny bit of hope that you're alive is keeping me held onto you.
But it's killing me.
-Mads
