Good Friday

The dates are different, but last year we spent Good Friday planning your funeral.   I miss you so much.   It's not fair.  I should be making you an Easter basket.  You should have hunted eggs.   You should be leaving for vacation with us on Sunday.   I think I will forever associate Easter weekend with the timeline of your death.   You weren't supposed to go first.   I wish somehow that it could have been me.   I'd give anything for you to be here instead.