Today would have been your thirty-second birthday. Five and a half years later I still think about you almost every day. I reflect on how grateful I am that I get another day. I contemplate how much I’ve grown, the distance I’ve traveled, and I grieve all the things you’ll never experience. The gap between September 25, 2015 and today is something I take very seriously. I’ve been thinking about writing you this letter for nearly five years: I just didn’t know what I wanted to say to everyone that matters to you.

For the first time in my life, I’ve come to grips with the idea of going to my grave alone. It’s taken me thirty-two years of repeated patterns to realize that I can do a lot of good in this life as a happy, whole individual. My friendships have become deeper, my attention more focused, and my mind clearer. I can truly devote myself to what matters, and no longer fall into the trap of performing what I think matters to other people.