I lace my boots the way Casey used to—just loose enough to slip on without effort. I wear an elastic band on my wrist like Ina always did, snapping it absentmindedly when I think too much. I make toasted cheese the way we perfected together on those long afternoons when everything else felt uncertain. I listen to a playlist from a time when we were inseparable, even though the songs now sting more than they soothe. I wear pieces of them like keepsakes. I hold onto their laughter in the way I sip my coffee, onto their kindness in the way I look at the world. There are jokes I still tell because someone I once loved thought they were funny, and books I treasure because they passed them to me with dog-eared pages. I am a mosaic of everyone I’ve ever loved, pieced together with fragments of memory. But today, I start to pick apart these fragments—not to discard them, but to make room for my own colours. I’ll still carry their warmth, their lessons, their light. But I’ll stop tying my shoes the way Casey did, and I’ll leave my wrist bare. Because I can hold onto them without holding myself back. I can be the person they believed in while also being fully, entirely me. They taught me how to feel loved, and now I’ll use that love to move forward, to be who they were for me.
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