It’s late…well, it feels late. We used to stay up this late all the time, and it never felt like this…now it just feels late. I’m tired. It doesn’t help that I’m fighting a cold.
I find myself staying up later than we did when you were here. It’s not because I can’t sleep, it’s probably more that I don’t like going to bed when you’re not there. It just doesn’t feel right crawling into a half-empty bed.
Today marks six weeks. For the first time in my life, I’m wishing I didn’t have a good memory with dates. I know it used to drive you a little crazy when I’d pop a “do you remember what day today is” on you. Things like October 27…our first date…our first dance…our first kiss. What will February 5 mean to me a year from now? Five years? Ten years? It’s a bittersweet day…I guess I don’t have to explain. Will it bother you if I choose to celebrate Miranda’s birthday on a different day? I don’t know how I feel about that yet, but it’s something I’ve thought about.
I need to go to bed, to rest, to get over this cold. The walk from the family room to the bedroom seems unusually far...especially tonight.
I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.