Happy birthdayHi Babe,
I know I haven't written for a while, but you know it's because you are never out of my thoughts. It's been over a year now, and I guess I am supposed to be getting"better" (whatever that might mean); instead, I find I am just getting sadder. Before it was as though there was a gaping hole in the center of my life, but these days, I find myself missing you--the funny things you used to say, or things I imagine you would say. And that missing you doesn't seem to get any better; if anything, it's worse. I went home for the holidays, thinking that being somewhere that held fewer memories would be easier. It wasn't. I was preoccupied by how different it would be if you were there to celebrate with us; the places we'd go, the things we'd talk about.
And it breaks my heart that you can't see your daughter. She's just the funny, spirited, smart, and opinionated child you wanted. I remember M & A's wedding, where we watched all of those brilliantly uninhibited little girls out on the dance floor. We lamented our own introverted childhood selves, and you said, "I want a little girl like that--one who's not afraid to dance when people are watching." And now you've got one, in spades. She misses you, and everything that reminds us of you is precious to us. I hope you know that, although I can't seem to envision you peering down around the clouds like some bad Sunday school illustration.
This isn't working. I can write and write, but it doesn't say what I want to say, and I can't fool myself that you are hearing it.
I love you always, and happy birthday.