Dear Vanessa,

Last month was two years.

I didn’t do anything special for it. I don’t even know how to mark the day. It’s kind of weird we don’t have a word for the anniversary of someone’s death.

Or do we?

Jewish people have a word. It’s called Yahrzeit. But that’s it. I googled. No actual universal word for it. That’s weird.

I was going to post something sappy and upload it to Instagram because when I upload stuff to Instagram people buy the book. But in the end I didn’t do that. Not out of shame or anything like that. I just didn’t want to.

I was thinking about it though. I have said in the book multiple times that people don’t get to grieve the way they want.

For example. If I wanted to live stream myself crying at your gravestone and upload that to Instagram, I should be able to do that without being judged.

But people would judge it. They would think it’s cringe. Or self-absorbed. Or maybe even a little bit gross because in the end I’m posting so people will buy my book.

I think those people should go fuck themselves.

You are dead. If I want to be self-absorbed I should get to do that as long as I’m not hurting myself or anybody else.

But that’s not how it works.

So am I doing better after two years?

What does better mean?

If I chop off my arm, the arm never grows back. I’m never happy that I’m missing an arm. But I do get used to it.

Like, I’m not taking seven lorazepams a day. It would be disingenuous to say I’m in the same place I was when you died.

I’m taking things “day by day.” “One step at a time.” All of that cliche bullshit.

However, they are cliche for a reason.

They are cliche because those sayings work.

I know this because I’m still here.

Besitos,

Michael