Six.

We stand in a circle in a middle of a field; our breath white in the frigid air; the rain falling softly around us, onto the wet grass. The moon shines brightly and illuminates our flickering candles; and soon our voices rise from soft to loud, until music bounces off the walls of the surrounding buildings...

I remember the moon six months ago. When I got home from the hospital, dazed and devastated, I stepped outside to take in the night sky. There was the moon, full and bright; even though the world felt so dark and lonely. I looked up at it, and closed my eyes and cried and cried. Then I went inside and collapsed into an eternity of sleep...

It's been six months since that night. Six months of tears, no sleep, no energy, no appetite, no Becca. Yet it has also been six months of laughter, bonding, learning, searching, finding. In a crazy way, I've never felt more alive. My eyes have been opened to what it feels like to truly live--to appreciate the fragility but beauty of life.

And through it all I also realize that the only reason I've made it this far is because of the depth of our relationship and love. If we hadn't been so close, I think I would have lost it a long time ago. Yes, because we loved deeply, I grieve deeply--but at the same time, because we loved deeply, I am able to live deeply the way Micah would want me to. I want our love to be visible in that sense. I hope that people have been able to recognize that it has been love that has kept me "strong" even though it's also so easy to fall apart. I made a promise to Micah in the hospital that night, that I will live for him; and I want this promise to far outlast the sense of sadness in my heart.

Not to say there is nothing to be sad about today.
No, that is certainly not the case, for today was draining and heartbreaking; and, like everyday, I woke up and felt the reality and wanted to scream and sleep forever. This should never have happened. This day did not need to exist. It should have been just any normal Monday night; and the 8th should have passed by without any of us noticing. We should have gone to bed and never be woken up. We should have slept without doubting, as Micah would say, that everything was "all good in the hood." We should have risen in the morning and gone to school and never even imagined such a nightmare could have happened...
Micah should be here to laugh and live, and six months cannot remove the feeling of wrongness, shock, and emptiness. There is still so much to grieve for--for Micah's family, for Micah's friends, for Micah and me, and most of all, for Micah. The wrongness of it just seems to intensify as time goes on--I don't think time can ever truly heal that.

And yet, even though he is gone, I seem to love him more every day. As I interact with people here at college, my love for Micah grows even stronger, because I realize how wonderful he was and how much he has impacted me, both alive and not-alive. Micah brought me to life. He taught me how to have fun. He taught me how to casually love others, even through seemingly boring daily activities. He taught me how to not stress over tiny things. He taught me how to worship freely, with no reservations. He taught me how to forgive. He taught me how to laugh freely. He taught me how to love another person so deeply that even if they mess up, they can be welcomed with a warm hug and an understanding smile...

So today I cry for Micah; but I also offer a toast from the depths of my heart. To the crazy boy in middleschool with monkey ears and a loud mouth; yet the boy who caught my eye from the very beginning. To a goofball that could make me laugh in half a second. To years of friendship that turned into a deep love of understanding and supporting eachother. To laughing together, crying together, spending hours talking together; stargazing on the trampoline, tickle wars, Germany dutch blitz tournaments, over-eating at restaurants, creek stomping, thrifting, hugs on tip-toes, movie nights, naps at the park, failing math, "knock-on-wood", Rita's, "poopstains", Pogo barks, babysitting forts, "pound-it," tubing, "wowie," treehouses...
The adventures we have shared between the two of us have filled my heart with memories that I will always cherish. I thank God for you and the blessing you've been to my life.

To Micah, who will always be my boyfriend, who will always make me smile, who will always be a part of me. I love you forever. Thank you for making me who I am today, and being with me as I form myself for tomorrow and the days, years to come.

...the singing ends, and our candles are burnt down to the wicks. We look up from the hymnals and gaze around the circle. Then, someone pipes up, and breaks the silence. "Can we sing an upbeat song?" "Yes, yes, let's do it!" we agree. "But we have to sing it really loud!" someone else suggests..."because Micah was really loud!"
So we sing, loud and clear, so that Micah can hear; an upbeat song with a beautiful harmony and a pounding rhythm...

and the moon smiles down on us, and as I close my eyes, I truly think Micah can hear. I think he is smiling too.