This time last year...

You were alive. We weren't together, we weren't anywhere near each other, but you were alive, and you called me on my birthday.

I'm 32 this year. I missed your smile, and sharing a shot with you.

I miss you every time I hear the Law and Order gavel sound, but it's softer now. I guess I am more aware that you no longer exist on this plane.

Samhain takes on a whole new meaning now that you are gone. I have lost loved ones before, but this year, I would give so much to be able to peer beyond the veil and see you one last time. I would love to show you my baby, and let you see for yourself how strong and beautiful and alive he is.

Maybe I will. Maybe you will visit me.