Dear 黒本,

It still hurts.  I was reading through these posts.  It was the damn Christmas cookies that did me in. 

I wish there was an effective way to communicate a sigh over these dead letters.  All written language is dead, not just Latin and Sanskrit.  Nothing can truly tell the way the heart really is.  Although, sometimes it can get very close.

It still hurts when I remember things like Christmas cookies.  I'll never be able to make him happy again, or at least give my best attempt at it.  I'll never see him smile again.  It hurts, it really does. 

And it absolutely blows my mind away, because it has been sooooo long.  Another...  I'd say anniversary, but that is a terrible word for the annual repetition of the day that someone you loved died.  Whatever It is, It is coming in the next month.  Two days short of an exact month.

I will try not to dwell on it.  I will try not to dwell on the fact that I graduated and he wasn't there, even though I know he would be proud.  I'll try not to remember that I remembered him on Father's Day, and that I can't/shouldn't/don't have to buy/make him a gift anymore.  I'll try to not dwell on the fact that my mother, his own wife, has moved on with her life, and I have not.  I don't need to talk to someone because that will only encourage the kind of remembering that encourages dwelling.

I'm sorry.  It's really not fair to Jeff.  I can't bring myself to call him my step-dad, even though that is what he is.  This is still really really hard.  It still really hurts, but I'll try not to open an almost healed scab, a mental scar.  I'll try really really hard not to dwell on it.

I still love you,

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