Grief

 They like to say that time heals all wounds, but unfortunately I've found that that's just not true. This weekend marks twelve years since I lost one of the best friends I will probably ever have. And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but this anniversary hurts just as much (possibly more) than the 11 years before now. Over time I've learned to function without her smiles and her laughs, but there is still a very hollow pit in me that would tear the world apart for just five more minutes. I never go through a major life event without wishing I could tell her, get her advice on the lows, or celebrate the highs. I sit full of rage at the thoughts of how different, how much better, these years would have been if she hadn't been taken from me. My lonely nights and quiet moments could have been sprinkled with laughter. My joyful days could have been filled with so much more light. In so many ways she truly was the rainbow of my life. She always knew how to make me laugh or support me. Having spent so much time alone these past years while battling my chronic illness I can't help but feel bitter that I didn't get to have her by my side through this. She was such an incredible support system in that first year and half after my surgeries started. She would show up at my house when I couldn't visit her, she would ask for in depth reports on every doctor's appointment. But most of all she supported and loved me. She didn't shy away from inconvenience or the trauma that those early days were for me. I will never stop being grateful for the love she poured into me, but I'll also never stop hating the universe for taking her from me. Unfortunately, time does not heal all wounds, it simply forces you to survive without pieces of your heart.