I remove the ring, gently rolling it in my fingers. It’s hard to believe it’s been a decade. I squint, attempting to focus on the inscription inside of the ring, the date of your birth, and the date of your passing. My eyes are weaker than they were and I cannot make out the words. I breathe heavily at the realization that time is starting to wear on me.

I lift the ring to my lips and kiss it, remembering you fondly. If my eyesight fails to see the details I desire, my heart does not disappoint. It only takes a moment of concentration to open the flood gates on my memories of you. It was only earlier today I was showing a friend your picture, still proud of you, my boy.

It’s different now, though. Whether because of time’s passage, or fading memory, or healing of my heart, I can turn off the pain finally. I can embrace the fondness of our life together without being driven to weep, without being overwhelmed by the unexpected loss of your beautiful soul. Does it mean I love you less? I choose to believe that isn’t the case. I must. You are as dear to me now as the day I first held you in my arms. Your ashes remain close, within an arm’s reach. In a way, I still see you each and every day.

I often wonder what decisions would’ve been different were you still alive. Where would be now? Would I be happier? Would you? It’s best not to second guess.

I just want you to know that I’m ok. Truly. Never whole, but ok. I miss you. I love you. I remember you. Always.

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