Tomorrow is your birthday, and I’m not ok. I’ve been snappy and tired all week, trying to find a balance that makes being here without you not hurt so much. Should I think about you all the time? Or try distracting myself from the black hole your absence creates? Finding joy this week is always the hardest. Throughout the year I can usually remind myself that there is no pain where you are, and this loss is only temporary. But this week, every time, I can’t find peace. I’m still angry, still fighting to find a way to make any of this ok. Still coming to terms with the fact that it will probably never be ok.
I just came to say, I still miss you, every day. I still dream of you and the little boy you would be today. I keep up with all the kids that were born around this time. I see how much they’ve truly changed, and know you have too. I miss you, all the time. And I love you for forever and a day.