Today is my birthday. I was born today in 1983 at 9:27 in the morning. All of my birthdays leading up to this one all had one thing in common. My dad always made sure to send me a special note to tell me how proud of me he was and how much he loved me. Today my heart aches for that letter. Being a mile stone birthday, you know every 5th one is some sort of mile stone, I have no doubt that he would have had something very important to tell me, a memory he had of me or something we did together. But that letter obviously didn’t come. Instead of him calling, all I have are the copies of letters, emails, whatever. I’m wearing his sweatshirt. I’ve been working today and have been under his duck blanket while I work. I laid down for a short nap earlier and slept on a pillow that is now covered in a case my mom made out of one of his old flannel shirts. It even still smells like him. And even though I didn’t get to hug him when I was home over the weekend, I did have a few quiet moments with him, or what is left of him in the urn. And I have been waiting for this moment to happen today. For the sadness to take over and the tears to come. I’m thankful for them, and the memories that I have to cling to while I make it through this first birthday without him. Today All I have are things like this.