Forever Young

Dear Rachel,

Today is your birthday. You would've (should've!) turned 25.

This week has been pretty awful for us. It feels like a dark cloud has been hovering, casting a pall over everything we do (or try to do). It feels like depression, but then that's what grief feels like. It feels like we're back to those early days when emotions were close to the surface and all we wanted to do was hide away from the demands of everyday life. I want to crawl back in bed, pull the sheets over my head and stay there until the sun comes out again. Which it will. And I will. But for now, I'm just going to think about you and remember your smile and allow myself to miss you, even though it hurts so damned much.

Your mom mentioned that she's had a tough week and I suppose Amy has, too. Hell, anyone who knew you and knows what today is must be feeling pretty sad. This is such a more difficult day than Thanksgiving and Christmas (and those weren't exactly easy). This is your day. And a milestone to boot. But you won't be out celebrating with your friends tonight. And from here on out, you will remain forever young in our hearts and minds.

I've had a tough time trying to figure out what to do for your birthday. Obviously it's not a day we feel like celebrating, but we do want to celebrate the life you lived for 24 years. Some people like to release balloons or have a party with cake & ice cream to mark the birthday of a loved one who has died. Neither of these appealed to us, but I hated the thought of not doing anything. So we'll have a quiet dinner with friends and raise our glasses in your honor.

As far as a gift, we decided to make a contribution to a local women's shelter. Your murder was the ultimate example of domestic abuse and we felt it only appropriate to make the donation to Friendship Home in your memory. It's the least we can do.

Happy Birthday, Peachoo.

I miss you.

Love,

Les