It has been 6-months since you left us, and it still hurts like as though it happened yesterday.
Everyday it is torturous to see your portrait hung up on the wall alongside granpa and granma.
Things just aren't the same anymore. I miss that lingering smell from your self-rolled cigarettes, I miss those jokes you used to crack.
Thinking back, I wish we were much closer. We were close when I was much younger, but as I grew older, somehow the bond between us loosened. I'd give anything to be able to hug you once more. I can't help but feel that I have failed in carrying out my obligations as your son.
I'm sorry, I should've listened more often.