I miss you so very very much. Especially today on your birthday.
Not being able to share my life with you makes me feel incomplete. Nobody else shares my quirky, snarky sense of humor in quite the same way you do.
29 years ago today, I held a tiny little 8 week premature baby for the first time. You were so beautiful. And so small. Your diapers were the size of a Kleenex.
The nurse at the hospital referred to you as a little Peanut. That seems so humorous in light of your life-threatening peanut allergies now. The nickname, Peanut, almost stuck, too. Your dad and I actually called you that on and off for several weeks, but decided we didn’t want some random nurse we didn’t even know giving you a lifelong nickname. Wouldn’t that have been a horrible nickname for you? I’m laughing as I think about it. I think you would laugh, too.
I wish I could hear your laughter again. Or see your smile. Or watch you roll your eyes at something ridiculous.
I miss our heart-to-heart talks. I miss our Gilmore Girls’ mother/daughter relationship. I miss those days when you used to tell people I was your best friend. You were my best friend, too.
I miss calling you up when I’m on the way to the grocery store to see if you need anything, or if you just want to come along to get out of the apartment for a while.
I miss walking around the duck pond with you.
I miss talking about our homework assignments and professors.
I miss hearing about the latest books or articles you’ve read.
I miss having you and your husband over for dinner so I could give you another option for an allergy-free place to eat besides your own home.
I miss watching Doctor Who with you. We never did finish watching Torchwood. I hope you watch the rest of the series yourself someday. The most touchingly beautiful and sad moment I’ve ever seen on television happens in a later episode. You’ll need Kleenex. But you’ll love it. I’m sad that I probably won’t be there to watch it with you.
I miss sitting with you on the back deck, just talking and laughing, or reading books quietly in my outdoor “Reading Room” under the tree.
My house feels empty without you ever being here.
My entire life feels empty without you.
I’ve never cried so many tears as I have in the past few months. I never knew how sad it was possible to be. I never knew it could feel like you’re dying from a broken heart. I never knew it was possible to actually feel like you’re drowning in your own tears.
My life, my future, my heart — all broken and empty now. I can’t imagine how I will go on living a life without you in it.
I love you. I always will. Forever. No matter what.
Happy birthday, Sweetie. I miss you so much.