Lucky 13

Dear Gregger –

This is my first letter to you in Year Two. But it is significant. 13 months. Your lucky number. You. A “triskaidekaphilopheliac.” One who loves “13.” Most people cringe at the thought of 13. Not you. You picked the unlikeliest of numbers and made it the BEST. So you. I believe it is OUR lucky number. This is going to be OUR month. The month of lucky. Good things to come. We’ve hit a few bumps. That’s to be expected. You’re not here. Life is different. We’re still adjusting. Every day.

Here’s my reality.

1. I wake up every morning and face the challenges before me. I smile. I laugh. And I keep moving on. What other choice do I have?
2. I’ve paid all bills regularly. On time. You taught me well. Thank you. 
3. I’ve actually kept a balanced checkbook. Are you surprised? I am. I knew that would make you smile. Again, you taught me well. 
4. I’ve handled B.S. I don’t have your patience. I wish I did. I’m trying.
5. I still hate Sundays. They are so lonely without you. I miss our walks. I miss sitting at Starbucks. I miss talking to you. Bottom line. I MISS YOU.
6. Nighttime. Quiet. Dark. Lonely. I want to see your smiling face. Hear you chuckle. Hear you snore. You’re not here.
7. Songs on the radio. They remind me of you. Love. And what we had. Together. I want to hold your hand. Have you hold mine.
8. Another new season of TV shows started. Some you would hate. Others we would watch together. I miss that. I want you here to tell me how much you hate reality shows. I would love to hear you complain. I’d still watch them. With or without you. But now it’s just without you. And it sucks.
9. I’m learning to be me. I think you would be happy. And even a little proud.
10. I’ve had to go with the flow. Learn to adapt. I had to give up my “planning ways.” They don’t work. You’d be impressed. We learned that the hard way. Right?
11. Losing you hasn’t gotten any easier. I don’t think it ever will. It just gets different.
12. Life goes on with or without me. With or without you. So I might as well keep going with it. It goes too fast. And I don’t want to miss the rest of the ride. I just wish we were still riding together.

So 13 months. Our lucky time. Good things to come. I hope you are happy. At peace. I’m getting there. But I miss you. I always will. Keep smiling down on us. We see your shining light and feel the love. Thank you. I love you Gregger.