It hasn’t been easy.

Kenny was someone I worried over, I hoped for, I included in my wishes. He meant the world to me: as a friend, as someone I loved with all my being, as someone I was happy to know.

I don’t believe in ghosts but I want to. I know it’s a figment of my imagination, my mind desperately trying to reach him, a sliver of me wishing this was merely a nightmare. I want to believe that his presence still lingers and is watching over me.

I so desperately want to see him smile, hear his laugh, and listen to him tell me his latest mad theory. There’s so much more I thought we’d share together. Coming to the realization is frightening, even more so is accepting the fact.

There are times when I see him and I don’t immediately dismiss him. I let him linger and it comforts me; to imagine for a short while that he hasn’t ceased to exist. I go about my day with his ghost watching me, believing that he’s experiencing what I’m going through. It isn’t until I try to talk to him do I catch myself and I close my eyes as a wave of pain washes over me. When I open them, he’s gone and I’m left there by myself.

I don’t believe in ghosts but I want to.