With apologies to Jonathan Larson.

Two million six hundred twenty-eight thousand minutes
Two million six hundred twenty-eight thousand moments so dear
Two million six hundred twenty-eight thousand minutes
How do you measure, measure five years?

In daylights, in sunsets
In midnights, in cups of coffee
In inches, in miles
In laughter, in strife
In two million six hundred twenty-eight thousand minutes
How do you measure five years of life?

Another day and here I am still talking with your photograph hanging on the wall. I find it hard to believe that it’s five years since you took your last breath, a breath strangled by the ravages of COVID-19. It seems like it was just a moment ago, but the memories are seared into my soul.

When you left, life moved forward. But it has never been the same. I do the things we used to do together and with friends; but now I do them alone. I always bring you along though, there in my heart.

Did Sugar find you? She missed her Poppa so much when you were taken from us. She struggled, looking for you all around the apartment. Eventually, she developed cancer and I knew it was time for me to send her to you. I’m sure she’s happy to be reunited with you. I trust that Dash is with you too. I adopted him last year when he desperately needed someone to love and care for him in his final months. Loving him reminded me of how much you loved Quito and how you nursed her back to health when she was so abused. I’m sure he loves you as much as all our pets did.

I often wonder what your days are like now, wherever you are. Do you still get to watch Star Trek reruns? I hope you have met the loved ones of those with whom I have shared this journey of grief and recovery, the ones I have come to know and cherish here in this place. Do you all share your stories like we do?

I know you watch out for me. I sometimes wake at night and see your ethereal spirit standing by the bed just watching over me. It’s nice to know you are always close by. It warms my being.

I’m doing my best to keep your memory alive. It’s hard because our country has become cold and callous and ever willing to forget. But those of us who do survive, we work hard to let the country and the world know you mattered. Today, it’s five years. Tomorrow, it will be five years and one day. No length of time will keep us from remembering who we lost.