Good morning Sunshine,
It’s my birthday today. Yours is in 5 days. Two years ago I convinced you we should go to Chicago, watch baseball, eat good food. Another one of my large plans that you said okay to. Why? You could have said “no” so many times. You rarely did. I had an idea and you always made it seem like the best idea on earth and helped me make it reality. So two years ago we were sitting in Wrigley Field watching some of the coldest damn baseball I have ever watched. Wilson Contreras had the frickin weekend of his life. We got a bobble head. We ate at Low Country which was some of the best damn food we’d ever had ever.

It was the best.

I want to go back. Not to Wrigley. Just to two years ago. Wake up in that Air BnB to you saying “happy birthday beautiful”. To us wondering and finding breakfast biscuit sandwiches. To us snuggling under the overhang hoping the rain delay didn’t turn into a rain reschedule. It didn’t. We bought hot chocolate and beer and hotdogs.

My heart is breaking every day I wake up and you’re not here. Today is especially hard. Your birthday will be absolutely devastating. When they diagnosed you, they said a year. We got 6 weeks. 6 weeks. I thought I’d at least celebrate another birthday, celebrate yours, maybe get another thanksgiving and Christmas in. I thought we would just have more time. I feel robbed and there’s no one to be angry at. So I’m just sad. All the damn time. Crying sporadically. Then I remember how much pain you were in and how uncomfortable you were and I become thankful you aren’t suffering. You were the best person and to suffer should have never been in the cards for you.

I love you.