Today would have been your 42nd birthday.
Instead, it’s your first birthday on the other side.
I decided to write this at the last minute because I wasn’t sure I could turn my thoughts into words, but I’m going to give it a go.
It’s been about nine months since you left. I sometimes wonder if the part of my life with you in it was all a dream. It certainly turned into a nightmare.
When I think back on our time together, I struggle to remember the good times, though I know there were many. It all gets clouded by the way you left.
But I try to think about the first day we met and how happy we both were. The huge hug you gave me on my front doorstep. The way you sat and nervously sipped your coffee. Sitting by the lake, watching the sun glisten on the water.
You were so complex. A warm-hearted, caring, emotional soul, always battling to show the world you were the strong, stoic man you thought you needed to be. We’d spend hours talking about life, our hopes and dreams, our deepest, darkest secrets. I let you see parts of me that I’d hidden for my entire life.
There were rough times. I won’t deny it. We were both fiery and passionate and our arguments could be explosive, but they never lasted long. We always held onto each other and never lost sight of the fact we had something special.
So today would have been your birthday. I knew what I was getting you as a present because we talked about it. You wanted one of those driving experiences where you race around a track in insanely fast, expensive cars. You loved driving. It was one of the only things that could make you completely forget everything that was going on inside your head. And you lovingly called me the captain because I would sit in the front passenger seat and make snarky comments about you going what I considered to be too fast. Living on the Isle of Man where the national speed limit is whatever-the-fuck-you-want was something I had yet to adapt to!
I’ve gone through pretty much all the emotions since you passed away. Disbelief, anger, despair, to name but a few.
I’m so sorry you felt like such a burden. I’m sorry I didn’t see the signs. I’m sorry I couldn’t fix the pain.
You don’t visit me in my dreams so much anymore, but I’m glad, because the version of you that visited my dreams was angry, upset, still fighting with himself.
I hope you’ve now found the sort of peace you never found in this life.
I’ll never forget you, my sweet Wolf. Happy birthday.