Dear Sara,
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.
Love,
Chad
