Still here.

It's been 4 years since you left, and though the years keep flying by and blocks of time seemingly fade into nothingness by the day, you don't ever fade. 

I want you to know that I remember the day you went home, Meg, like it was yesterday. I remember the weather, what I ate, how I felt - even how the sunlight fell through the living room, the dust particles dancing in the blinding rays of light - as I sat wondering how the hell this was real. I remember when you died.

But more than that, I want you to know that I remember the days you LIVED. 

I remember the lilt of your voice when you were passionate about something and how your eyes all but disappeared when you laughed - really laughed. I remember your affinity for popcorn and ice cream (same girl, same). I remember your inappropriate jokes that kept us in stitches, your magnetic personality, your spitfire spirit. 

I made a decision this year, something personal and pretty immense. 

A decision that will alter my life for the better, forever - and I like to think that it's bits of you and the way you lived fearlessly that made me finally say, "yes" to living fully, myself. 

So, like I always say - and always will say - you are still here, sweet girl. 

You're still here - not the way we ever wanted you to be, no. Because this isn't what you deserved. 

But somehow, you're still here. 

And you are still so very loved.

And you are remembered.

I love you.