Third summer.

Micah, a third summer without you.

Tonight I just want to sit close to you on the couch, rest my head on your shoulder and talk. Talk to you--you who knows me and loves me and cares--about everything and anything. I want to talk about how your "little" brothers are now freshmen in high school and college. How your dog still barks at the top of your steps. How I visited the cemetery where our great-grandparents are buried recently and how amazing it is that they were friends. I want to talk to you about high school memories and the latest pop music and the messiness of my room and my ridiculous summer jobs.

I want to talk to you about me moving to China in a week to live there for 3 months. I want you to reassure me that it will be okay and you'll send me emails to make me laugh about my Mandarin mistakes. I want to say goodbye to you like the other long-distance relationships and count down the days to seeing you when I get back.

I want to talk about love and jobs and how growing up is the most difficult task in the world. I want to hear your thoughtful advice and then sit in the silence knowing I've been heard.

I want you by my side these days more than ever, Micah, for your love and support and laughter. I know that no longer can be a reality, but it stings again and again as I accept it. You are so deeply missed and remembered.