A year has passed. A whole, agonising year, and yet it feels as though it could have been only yesterday that you slipped away from us. Sometimes, I still find myself waiting for you, thinking that any minute now, you'll walk through the door, that infectious smile of yours lighting up the room. It's the kind of smile that made everything feel just a little bit easier. But then the silence falls back into place, and I remember... you're really gone.
Grandpa's been trying his best. He always has that same determined look on his face, like he's convinced if he keeps things ordinary enough, I'll forget the hole you left behind. Every Sunday, without fail, he makes his chocolate chip pancakes, soggy at the edges, crispy on the outside, and always with a tune he somehow manages to butcher. It's charming, in a way, and it always gets a laugh out of me, even if I don't feel like laughing. He's been telling me to look for small joys, to appreciate the little things, but it's hard when the world feels so empty without you.
I've started babysitting for the Walkers to save up. It's not much, but I have a plan. When I turn 18, I'll find you. Wherever you are, I'll find you. I swear it. And when I do, I'll bring you back home.