April 10, 2025

It’s the second birthday without you. Last year, I was mad and fuming and desperate to have you back, angry that you were gone. Angry that you left us so abruptly. I had been making apple pie for this day for a lot of years, and I was determined to never make it again. (As an aside, I did eventually make apple pie for my family because they wanted it and homemade apple pie is pretty damn good!)

All the things you loved, all the things we did together, I avoided. I still haven’t watched the tv shows West Wing or House. Because of you. Because we watched it together. Because you loved them as much as me.

I haven’t made pot roast with carrots and potatoes because of you. No more ginger beer kept in the pantry just so we’d always have it in case you came over and wanted one by itself or mixed with vodka and lime. I haven’t drank (or is it drunk?) a moscow mule since you’ve been gone. Just wouldn’t be the same without you.

For awhile this year, I was avoiding everything that was you. In the first months after you died, I always wore something that reminded me of you–either a gecko I had purchased or one of your plaid shirts. I felt naked without them. With them, I felt protected. Somehow, a sparkly rhinestone gecko brooch was a talisman to the pain. The little gecko earrings that looked like stained glass were a pathway to joy. And then I stopped. Wearing those things no longer helped. They hurt. A lot.

But today I tied one of your plaid shirts on top of a black dress over leggings and pinned that brooch on. I even stuck your coat in the car in case I got cold. Happy birthday Alex in heaven. I wanted to have you around me.

This year your birthday falls in the middle of a hard season. Twenty years without your sister. Five years of crazy. I woke up and I went to Facebook memories. I smiled and smiled as I scrolled through 20+ years of birthdays for you, my firstborn. There was no 25 and there is no 26. I laughed at #16 when Mary and Jackson had created a little driver’s license for you. Ah, such is the happiness of ordinary life with children. I thought of your friend Caleb. I wondered if he realized it was your birthday today. I thought if you were still here, you guys would probably be celebrating together, something that included bourbon and cigars.

I didn’t have to wonder long if Caleb knew what day it was. I got a text from his wife Corey. They were thinking and praying for me. My heart instantly hurt for them missing you.

We all miss you, babe. Wish you were here. We had Chinese for dinner. Not Wong Wongs, someplace new that Randall recommends and where Mary says has the best eggrolls. You would have liked it.