50 | IELEV8

Dear Mark,

I can hardly believe that today is your fiftieth birthday and it’s been ten whole years since we’ve been together to celebrate you. I am not sure where the time has gone, although I’ve learned that the passage of time is warped by a grieving heart. When we lost you, time stopped. My final hours with you are forever seared into my memory, an indelible imprint that is almost as fresh as if it were yesterday. Meanwhile, it feels like we’ve lived a lifetime without you. You are forever forty years old, in our photos and our memories. We’ve celebrated ten more of your birthdays, and we’ve all grown older, yet you’ll always be the husband and father we lost at forty, far too soon. We had so much love left to share with you.

On days like today, our longing for you is on display, for all the world to see. We celebrate you, think of you, miss you, love you and speak of you, longingly. Today, we missed you loudly and proudly. We sent you messages from the beach, as we do every year on your birthday. We spelled out our heartache, sending up the words and wishes and prayers that spilled from our hearts and rose to the heavens for you.

However, most days we miss you quietly. So quietly that no one even notices. Their world keeps spinning and ours does too. But we always miss you, through all the big moments and the little ones too.

I miss you when I wake, and the light pours in through the windows of this forever home that we shared so long ago. I miss you at the quiet moments, when my racing mind pauses for a few seconds and wanders back to you. I miss you as I draw the shades at night, and the flickering light outside reminds me of your eternal presence and ethereal guidance. I miss you during the busy moments, from the bleachers of football and basketball games and from the rows and aisles of theaters, while my heart bursts with pride, watching our children shine on stage or dominate on the field. I miss you so deeply it takes my breath away. I imagine how your eyes would be glistening as you watched them flourish. I know they miss you, too. Profoundly, yet, quietly, like I do. No commotion, no tears. Just wishing you were here, always. Missing you softly. Yet feeling it ever so loudly, now and forever.