[Content warning: mortality, sadness. You know the drill.]
Jessica would have turned 27 today. The last birthday of hers that we got to celebrate was five years ago, in Las Vegas with some friends, and I’m glad we did. These days, I tend to think I’m done grieving, but then occasionally I see or hear something and it all comes hurrying back. Not often, but sometimes.
She still shows up in my dreams and things are just like they used to be. In reality, if she were still alive, five years might have brought changes to our relationship that I can’t even picture. Maybe we would have drifted apart. Where would we fit into each other’s lives? If she came back now, what would she think of my life without her?
Most days, missing her is the kind of missing that’s more of a fond nostalgia than anything really painful. We had a good run. Today I’m missing her a little more, though.