This is one of those really real grief and widowhood posts.
Today is Parker’s birthday. The second one we will never get to celebrate with her.
I woke up this morning in a city I had never been to before, next to a woman I love, getting ready to spend the day watching a sport I’m becoming mildly obsessed with (HA!) that’s made up of a tribe of incredibly amazing women. (Or should I say, self saving warrior princesses maybe? Nah, they’ll kick my ass and they could do that!). I’m doing all of these incredibly happy and wonderful things.
And under all of the incredible happiness for who and where I am right this moment I felt that deep pit in my chest because today, is the second birthday Parker will never celebrate and fuck, that hurts. I miss her and I mourn for her and fuck, it HURTS.
I love my life, and where I am right this moment. I’m thankful for all of the lessons I’ve learned but I seriously wish I could have learned them without the loss.
But then I wouldn’t be where I’m meant to be I guess.
And I love where I am, and who I am so, I guess I still wouldn’t change a thing.
Sometimes life is great and still hurts like hell at the same time.
Happy Birthday up there my #fireflybutt. Always and Forever, Forever and Always in a diffferent sort of way!