It’s almost our son’s 3rd birthday, which will mark half his life without you.

I don’t much care about other birthdays anymore. My own, 35, felt so strange. I don’t say “happy birthday” to people often because it feels too fake when in my head it’s like saying “hey, that’s fun that you get to be another year older and my dead husband doesn’t”.

But we’re going to try to celebrate and the kid will get cake and visits from some family and some of our fraternity brothers. You’d be glad to see who keeps trying and showing up.

This time I won’t order a cake that’s twice as big as we need or make the mistake of taking kiddo to the grocery store with me to pick up the cake hours before he can eat it.