Heavenly Birthdays

This month holds two birthdays that we won’t get to celebrate in person.

And somehow, that still doesn’t make it feel any less real.

Piper,

You were technically born in February, but I gotchya in March—so March is yours. That’s when you became mine. Or maybe more accurately, when I became yours.

This is the first year without you. I don’t know if I’ll write something every year, but this year feels different. This year feels loud in its silence.

You were my first born.

My shadow.

My constant.

You went everywhere with me—road trips, moves, new beginnings, and quiet returns. You never acted poorly. You trusted me completely, and I trusted you right back.

Clyde and Ollie do their best. They carry pieces of joy forward. They make me laugh when I don’t expect to.

But babygirl, there will never be another you.

You were the calm in every storm, the steady presence when everything else felt uncertain.

You loved everyone. Fully. Freely. Even when they didn’t deserve it.

There’s still a space beside me that belongs only to you. I don’t think that space ever goes away. I think we just learn how to live around it.

I will celebrate you with the boys. I will say your name. I will carry you forward in everything we do.

I love you forever, Piper.

Spike,

I still listen to your voicemail.

Sometimes when I don’t know what to do. Sometimes when I do.

You were always there. Not in a loud way. Not in a way that asked for recognition. Just steady. Constant. Honest.

I miss your hard truths.

I miss being able to call and unload the weight of everything, knowing you’d let me feel it—but never stay there too long. You always made sure I lifted my head again.

I miss food and beers.

I miss the quiet understanding.

I miss you pretending you didn’t even like me while making sure I had a deviled egg anyway.

The holidays were different without you.

Everything is different without you.

I love you, Uncle Spike.

More than words can hold. But I know you’re somewhere familiar—somewhere easy—having a beer, telling someone else exactly what they need to hear.

Happy Heavenly Birthdays.

You are both loved. You are both missed.And you are both still with me—in ways that matter most.