Hello

Josh,

I look for signs of you all around me. Knowing how much you loved nature and the outdoors, it is easy to make myself believe you are part of the very air I breathe. Perhaps it's foolish, but it comforts me.

Yesterday, did you hear me telling you about my day? About sharing the pic of you at Yosemite, traversing El Capitan, and how in awe my co-workers were of your bravery? Did you laugh about me telling them how I couldn't look at it when you first showed me? It frightened me to see you pretending you had wings, but now I hope you're no longer pretending. Josh, I hope you know how precious all those pictures are to me now. They are visual proof of what I want people to know about you. You were so incredibly vibrant and alive. I have been so privileged to be in the orbit of your life.

I told you all those things, and more, when I was talking to you. I was sitting in the chair I usually sit in, facing into the yard. I imagine you across from me in your old familiar spot. I can almost see the smile on your face. I miss our conversations and soon found myself trailing off to a whisper, feeling silly and frustrated. The tears started falling harder down my cheeks and my heart felt torn asunder once again. My voice was strained and trembling as I expressed how lost I was feeling.

Did you hear me? I think you must have. Just as I told you, every single leaf on the maple tree fell to the ground. All of them... in one fell swoop. Instantly, I stopped my blathering and just relished the moment. After, I dried my tears and went to work and all day there was a calm quiet place in my heart were my anguish had been.

Perhaps it was simply time for them to fall, though I prefer to think it was you stopping by to say hello.

So....Hi there.

I love you too.