Larissa Lunsford
George, I can’t believe you’ve been gone a year now.
Every once in a while, I’ll pull out my phone and look over our text messages because I don’t have the heart to delete them. All those videos about ‘what 5 foods you should stay away from’ and articles about “how long does it actually take to get to the moon” and the in between messages about work, still saved on my phone.
I don’t want to delete them.
Showing up to work after you passed was hard. In some weird way, I was still looking for you, hoping maybe this was a bad dream and that I would find you sitting at the back desk, writing in your journal. Goodness, sitting at your desk was even harder.
Sticky notes with your handwriting on them still stuck on the wall, the way you had arranged all the pens, cards, reels, and paperwork. You wiped everything down clean and spotless at the start and end of your shift. You did this every day you came in. The corners of the keyboard mat had wilted and curled up and inwards because of your daily ritual.
I cried when they finally replaced it.
I’m upset that I only have one photo of the two of us and even more so that we only hugged twice. The very last time I saw you I was busy, in the middle of doing something, but we both waved at each other and I think I said something along the lines of “Have a good weekend!”.
So, of course, it hit me like a ton of bricks when I was finally told he news of your passing. All I could think about was what my last words to you were. I remember that Sunday, the weather was nice and the sun was out.
It was a beautiful day.
I hope you did have a good weekend, George.
I still miss you and think about you all the time. The only thing that really seems to ease the sadness is when I talk about you. All of your advice, the jokes we shared, and who you were. I talk about you to the people that knew you and loved you and to the ones who didn’t get the chance to meet you. I’ll make sure to keep you alive in that way.
You’re still the best Work Dad I ever had.
Love, Larissa.
