Dear Mr. Wicke,
I missed your birthday. We weren't there. No cards. No gifts. I am glad that your brother filled in and brought you a cake, lighted some candles, and sang to you.
In honor of your birthday, I am keeping your children alive and (mostly) happy. But they miss you, my darling. And I miss you, too. Most of all, I am sure. These summer trips without you serve only to remind me of how much I need you on a daily basis.
And so, if you are sure of nothing else, know this: That your 41 years on this earth really do matter. That our lives would be empty without you. That you are the best father and husband we could ask for. Know that, and then when we see you again we will celebrate in person.
xoxo,
Your Wifey
p.s. Griffin is not nearly as good a bedfellow as you. I have been kicked, smacked, rolled on, and bounced around. AND he won't let me put my cold feet on him. I miss you, even in my (interrupted) sleep.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
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2 comments:
Sweet post!
Lovely...
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