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It’s almost your birthday.

This is the week where you would have gotten the most crap from your husband, letting you know how you are older than him and you are a cradle robber. This was something that I so dearly miss joking with you about.

You may have been just under 2 months older than I, but it was something both of us gave each other crap about so often. This week there will be no sleeping in for you. There will be no sneaking the girls out of the house before you wake on Wednesday, no breakfast in bed, no Caribou coffee in bed. There will be no surprise presents or looking forward to your bath and body works lotions and victorias secret gift cards. The excitement in your eyes on a birthday morning will not be here.

It already sucks so badly, and I am trying my damnedest to keep smiling for the girls. I packed up all your clothes and stored them away for the pandas. If it wasn’t for them there wouldn’t be much around here to keep going. You did end up sending someone my way to talk to about everything and to lean on when it gets hard, and I do thank you for that. We are both very convinced you are in the music we listen to every day, throwing a song or two in there.

I miss you Andrea Joy – I get to see your eyes in Gloria, your smile in Eleanor, and part of your attitude, too. I miss you though. It’s not quite the same here without the joking and being together all the time.

We have come to a place here where we are able to keep up with everything and still have fun. We will be just fine.

I Love You and miss you so fucking much it hurts.

Happy Birthday my Andrea Joy. I Love You.

Until The Day I Die