Hi Dennis. I lost you four years ago today–July 20— at 7:43 p.m., I can’t forget. I’ll never forget.
It hurts to miss you and it hurts to know all moments you’ve missed.
You would have loved being in the White House the first day photos were allowed in 40 years. You would have driven the Secret Service crazy with all of your camera gear.
You would still be talking about the river trip to Europe and both of us would have eaten too many German pastries.
I would have called you hundreds of times at work about something trivial that the dogs did. Cleo wouldn’t eat her pill. Jackie was squeaking while she was asleep. And you would stop what you were doing and we would talk about our silly pets.
Your nephew Steve got married on my 59th birthday. I was there, alone, but I was there. Remember when I first met him? He and his twin were just a year old, with drooley smiles.
You would have been there among our friends for my 60th birthday. And my 59th, my 58th, my 57th…
Instead, on my 60th, a kind, funny, compassionate, devoted man asked me to spend my life with him and I said yes.
I wondered if that was OK with you, as I always do when I laugh or enjoy a summer sky or a cup of coffee. I wonder if it’s OK not just to live, but to live in happiness, and to love again.
I think of the night a week ago..on my birthday..as Jeff and I walked to the parking lot after his proposal and my party.
Jeff pointed up into the dome of stars and said “Look! Do you see that?”
I looked up.
Just then, a star blazed across the horizon and exploded in a bright shower.
And I thought, maybe you are missing nothing at all.