It's not easy

to think about you being gone.
I still miss you so much.
It's weird, because I have so many dear friends I knew longer, but you and I were so tight.

I miss writing silly phrases on your wall, and having you respond. I am sad that I am know the only one that saw the shoe, all shined up and ready for a walk, sitting outside the campus. I miss your presence in my days, and you voice on the phone, and your advice, input, excitement and sheer willingness to believe in me.

I miss you. I miss watching law and order with you, and playing the drinking game we made up. I miss analyzing every little bit of legalese we came across. No one else cares if the sign on the side of the road was clearly made by a lawyer, it was all you and me.

I didn't intend to find such a dear friend when I went to law school, but you appeared.

And now, just as unexpectedly, you are gone.

Everyone seems to think I should be over that fact. Everyone tells me I should move on. The problem is, I have. It's you who haven't, who can't, move on. I am here, over a year later, with a one year old son, a burgeoning career, a soon to be seven year old daughter, a stable marriage, a possible third kid in the future. You are still a year out of law school, waiting for me to give birth, looking for your chance to save the world.

It's not me who can't move on.