Another countdown. 40. Six months ago I celebrated 40. Next week would be Daniel’s 40th. He only made it to 35, and now he’d be 40. Shit.

Amazingly enough, I think his birthday is harder for me than my own was. Mine sucked in it’s own special way, but this is different. I’m actually 40. I’m aging. I’m alive. He’s not 40. He’s not aging. He’s not alive. 

My mind plays tricks on me and it seems like only moments ago he was here. I could call him. I could hurry home from work knowing he’d be there. We were raising Grayson together, having a life together. Not anymore. Not for four and a half years. It still sucks. 

Grayson and I talk about how funny it will be for me to see Daniel again in Heaven – he’ll be young, only 35, and me? I’ll be a haggard toothless old lady. Grayson thinks you get to pick how old your body is in Heaven. I hope so. I certainly wouldn’t want my heavenly image to be based on how I feel on the inside….some days I feel 90 already. Today is one of those days.