Today is short, sad, and stubborn. Yet agonizingly long. Today is K’s 34th birthday. Was. Would have been? I don’t know. It’s still a significant day in our lives. It will be for a long time.
But you don’t age anymore. You’re brilliantly sparkling in a paradise of boundless wonder and joy. Or is it a black morass of void and crushing silence? No, I refuse to believe that. It is an endless beach of purple sunsets and golden sunrises, glittering green glass seas with snow white crests, singing songbirds and gleefully galloping horses and huskies.
Today is about family, lasting memories and your impact on our lives. You are never forgotten, never reduced, never minimized. Always fondly, always missed, always adored.
Your nieces are the picture of beauty and happiness. We never had children ourselves, regretfully. Yet your spirit lives on through them and through your brother, sister-in-law, mother, aunt, and grandma, who are the most wonderful parents, grandmother (“grabba”), great-aunt, and great-grandma (“gi-gi”) in the world.
How do we go on without you? Your life was not supposed to end so soon. You were supposed to have so many more birthdays, anniversaries, holidays. Movies, concerts, meals, get-togethers, car-rides, conversations. Sleepless nights, painful days, disappointing doctor appointments, difficult obstacles, debt collector letters. Triumphant texts, daring dreams, miraculous recoveries, supportive friends. Loving embraces, longing voice mails, sweet nothings, sexy nighttimes, cozy comforts, and stalwart standing-by. Through thick and thin, for better or worse.
Til death do us part.
And it did. God help us it did.
We will never be the same. Our lives are changed for good.
I will never be the same. I’m everything I am, because you loved me.
And because I lost you.
I loved you.
I love you.