I miss you.  Tonight, well exactly one year ago, tonight, I went to bed with an uneasiness.  I knew things weren’t right, nor would they ever turn to be.  I tried calling you in the evening.  I wondered if it would be the last time — I wondered if you were sleeping already, and I didn’t mean to disturb you, but I missed you so much.  And I’m so sorry that I’m so far away.  I always meant to be closer when we grew older.  I tried calling, but it just kept ringing until I heard your comforting voice on the voicemail greeting.  The one I helped you record when you got your first cell phone.  You kept the recording all these years.  Did I tell you I miss you?  So much.  Words.  I’ve had an absence for.  Feelings I’ve always held back for I’ve been so afraid to feel the emptiness.  You always mentioned I could come talk to you about anything at anytime.  But where do I go now?

Last year at this time, I woke up early at 2:30am to make an early flight — at precisely 3:01am, which would have made it 6:01am where you were, I received a missed call.  I had to look up the number as I didn’t recognize it — it led to the nursing home where you were staying.  I was fearful of the news.  So afraid, I didn’t call the number back.  I also knew they would call Ma or Sister, which later that day, I did hear the news.

I knew you were at peace now.  I knew you didn’t hurt anymore.  But I also know you weren’t ready to go.  You were always so stubborn (smiley face).  I know where i get it from.

Ba, it has been one year today.  And I miss you so so much.  I’m so afraid to cry.  To let go.  To let the emptiness come in.  I’m not ready yet.  I’m so sorry.  I know it’s so selfish of me, for in some way, perhaps the belief is that if I do let go, I would just miss you too much.