day twenty three: a little love

Stacy Lynn Sprouse, January 9, 1981 – November 23, 2005

It’s been four years. So many things are different now, but one thing stays the same: I still miss that girl, but as ever, I am thankful that she was a part of my life. This anniversary is always a hard one for me, bringing with it memories of that early morning phone call on Thanksgiving when everything changed. I’m already having a rough time today but I’m trying to get it together before I have to leave for work, even though I’m sure that spontaneous crying fits would go over exceptionally well in the office. Anyway, I’m not sure how eloquent I can be right now.

Last year, I wrote this:

The thing that crushed me over and over again is that on the day she died, I kept meaning to call her, I thought about it several times, and I never got around to it. I have finally forgiven myself for this, for putting off the chance to tell her I loved her one last time, but while I would have given anything to have learned this lesson any other way, the fact remains that I know it now. So, no matter how trite it seems, how busy you are, how nervous it makes you, don’t put off the chance to tell the people you love that you love them. It’s good for them to hear it and it’s good for you to say it. And not to be depressing, but there are no guarantees in life and you never know when you might run out of chances. So don’t squander the chances. Take them. Every single one. While you may not have known Stacy, I did, and I honestly can’t think of a single better way to honor her memory than by adding a little love to the world. So if you have any love in your heart, please give it to someone else today.

And I still mean it.