Missing You, Cha Cha :: Four Years of Life and Loss
Four years.
It still doesn’t feel real to write that.
Four years since we lost you. Four years without our Cha Cha.
Your name still catches in my throat.
Your absence still catches me off guard.
Somehow, time has marched on. The seasons have changed, people have grown, and life has continued, but none of it feels the same without you.
Moments Without You
There have been so many moments I wish you were here, so many times I wanted to call you. I miss your side-eyes and sarcasm.
You missed birthdays, holidays, and those everyday moments that somehow mean everything. You missed watching my children grow, change, and sometimes stumble. You missed watching your godchild, Addie, grow into someone incredible. She is so smart, driven, and full of promise. You would have loved to take the credit for it.
The Daily Grief
Grief doesn’t go away. It has no expiration date, a finish line, or a clean resolution.
It is a quiet weight we learn to carry. Some days it’s light, almost forgettable. Other days, it’s crushing. But it’s always there beneath the surface, waiting to remind us of what was lost.
I used to think grief would get smaller. But now I unfortunately know that we grow around it. We build a new life with grief in the passenger seat. Grief continues to walk with us, just in quieter steps.
And oddly, I’ve found comfort in that. Because that grief means you mattered, and our bond is not something that will ever fade.
The Memories That Stay
I still hear you sometimes, not your actual voice, but the way you would’ve responded to something, your commentary, your sass, and your humor.
You’re not here physically, but you’re still everywhere.
This journey without you hasn’t been easy, but I walk it daily with your memory beside me.
