Happy Birthday, Babe

There are now words for today, at least none that are sufficient for the emotions that I feel. Today is my sweethearts 29th birthday.
This is a photo of his first birthday. He was moments old in this picture, and the inquisitive, sober look in his eyes tells the story of the man he would become.

It takes a special man to celebrate your birthday by wearing a large plaster fish head. Remember this dinner, babe? You chose McGraths Fish House in Layton, and your fish-hating wife struggled to find something to eat. I finally settled on breaded and fried prawns. They're pretty close to shrimp, and it surprised me how excellent they were. This was also Jeremys first exposure to fish. He ate halibut from your Dad's plate by the mouthful. It was hilarious. Remember in later years, when you would buy crab legs and share them with the boys? Kadon liked it okay, but it was really Jeremy that shared your passion. I think you turned 24 in this picture.

For your 25th Birthday, I went all out. I spent weeks contacting nearly everybody that you had ever been close to. Many of them you hadn't spoken to in years, and it took some work to track them down. I invited as many as possible to a surprise party, and asked the rest to send cards. I sent you out Christmas shopping with your Dad, and you swore that I actually fooled you. You seriously thought I would let your birthday pass without making some sort of fuss?

As you sat in the chair, surrounded by friends and family and opened the box of cards, it dawned on you what I had done. Each new card brought tears to your eyes, and you wiped them away without shame. You lived in the past briefly, and I am so grateful to have given you that chance. That box of cards is still in your dresser drawer. It was a wonderful way to celebrate your birth.

How many ice cream cakes did you consume over the years, love? Between you and your mother--it always took very little persuasion to produce a reason to have an ice cream cake. I so appreciate your passion for the things you love. Of course--that passion usually translated to something good for me, so how could I complain?

The kids drew pictures for you, and I wrote a letter. I plan to put them in balloons this morning, and we'll go to your grave site today to release them. The kids are absolutely confident that when you receive the balloons, you will pop them and take great pleasure in reading the letters and seeing the pictures.

I wish you could be here. I wish I had made a bigger fuss for your birthday last year. Had I known it would be your last, I would have. We had just moved here, but the kids and I went to the party store and got a banner, some streamers, and a silly hat for you to wear. I'm embarrassed to admit that it was almost last minute. I know we went out, just you and I, at a later date and got dinner and did Christmas shopping for your birthday, but even that didn't turn out as well as I would have hoped. We painstakingly selected a steakhouse, only to get there and discover it was closed. We ate at Subway instead.

Anyway, I miss you. You know that. Happy birthday, sweetheart. I wish we could have spent many more together like we planned. 28 isn't nearly enough.