Loss, despite what inspirational cross-stitches or Instagrams will tell you, doesn’t get easier with time. You don't miss someone any less just because they’re not around. You only get slightly more used to their absence. It’s like a searing burn that throbs the first day, but a little less as time goes on, until you only have the discolored skin to remind you that you scalded yourself in the first place. But the scar never disappears. And if you think about it you can still feel it burning, even if that part is only in your head. What does go away? The sound of Justin’s voice. His Texas drawl. The way he lovingly called me Bilo, after a character in one of our favorite films, Borat (don’t ask — it was said with love). And the less I can visualize him, the more it shatters me.