Today is the day you left this world, one year ago.
I've thought of you all day long, as have countless others who still follow your story. Because, people are still following your story. And while your story was supposed to end last March 4th as you drew in your last breath, it's still being written one year later.
And thats how it should be.
We should live our lives so tremendously effectively that the Writer of our lives keeps writing for us after we've gone.
He seems to have many more chapters to fill for you. Chapters that will continue to inspire and motivate others to savor the goodness of these lives we live.
I still struggle, Joey. I struggle a lot still with fear and anxiety and existing instead of living. But, I've come a long way since I first wrote you. In fact, I'm on hour seven of a road trip I was scared to take five days ago.
I finished my book that you inspired. I've made harder goals, more meaningful goals, and remembered to enjoy doing the tiny little things that you reminded me to start enjoying.
I started smiling a bit while making dinner, and those requests for more water or singing at night don't feel like fingernails on a chalkboard anymore.
I've found myself on the floor tickling and laughing more than I used to. Remembering a time when my own parents would do the same.
I tried your eggshell gardening trick and it worked for a few weeks. Those sprouts made me think of you and gave me hope for a color-changing thumb.
I carry you with me, Joey. Every day. Every not-so-pretty mothering moment, I think about how you just did your best to breathe in the sour with the sweet. In fact, I'd like to believe that you thought it was all sweet.
It's where I want to be.
An example to others that embracing it all makes the perfect freshly-squeezed lemonade people crave on a warm summer day.
Irresistibly, irresistible. Unquenchable life.
More eager to meet you than ever before,