Dear Deborah,
Today would have been your thirty-fourth birthday. Last year around this time I remember how excited you were to introduce your family to mine when we all went out to dinner. This year, all we can do is send along good wishes and try to cope with what should be a joyous occasion.
I still miss you terribly. Every morning I wake up in our empty bed, and I hate it. Every day I come home, still half-expecting you to greet me and am greeted by stark silence instead. Thank God for the kitties. It brings me happiness to come home to them. They're always excited to see me, but I'll never shake the feeling that you should be there too. Still, they've been invaluable, and I hope Lola is keeping you good company too. I hope she's as playful as ever.
Do you remember when we moved in together? I'm sure you do, but do you remember those two cardinals we always saw in the back yard? I haven't seen them since you've been gone. Not once. I can only assume your parents had no reason to keep watch on the house anymore now that you're with them. I'd imagine you're happy to be reunited, but I must confess selfishness in wishing it weren't so. You were simply too young, and we had so much to look forward to. You'll have a whole eternity together. All I got was a year and a half, and that's not fair.
Everyone misses you so much. Mom and Brad talk of you often. Mike shares some of my anger, but truthfully, nobody can truly understand just hard how this has been. Even Deanna has expressed regret and wished she could have done more, but if I couldn't make you go to the doctor, nobody could. Who knows if it would have even done any good. We'll always be left wondering, I suppose.
I'm sorry I broke some promises to you, Baby. I try never to promise anything because I don't want to break them. I'm sorry I didn't finish the backyard yet, or hold Thanksgiving at our house like we planned, or that I didn't see the kids on Christmas. It's just all been too hard. Honestly, seeing the kids reminds me so much of you, and it's just too painful at the moment. But hey, I finally got that picture we bought for the living room hung! That's gotta count for something, right?
It's weird the things that affect me. Seeing previews for One For The Money, for instance. You loved those Janet Evanovich books, and I know you would've been excited to see that. Even though I can't stand Katherine Heigl, I would've gone just to make you happy. If you put up with my weird sci-fi stuff, I could certainly stomach the occasional romantic-comedy or whatever. That's the type of give-and-take we had that made our time together so great.
Things will never be the same. Your birthday, my birthday, Valentine's Day/our anniversary, the 4th of July, Thanksgiving, Christmas... I'll never be able to see fireworks again without thinking of you. I'll never get through any of those days without wishing you were here. There will always be a void left by your passing. That's not to say I'll never meet someone special again, but they'll never be you, and I'll never have "us" again. But I wouldn't change what we had for anything, even if it meant I wouldn't have to endure this pain and sadness now. It was worth it. We shared as much love in a year and a half as most people do in a lifetime.
Just know that, no matter what happens for the rest of my life, I will always love you, Baby. It's as true now as it was May 15, 2010 when we first said it to one another, and it will still be true ten years or more from now. You were the best thing that ever happened to me.
Happy birthday, my love,
Matt
Comments