I fucking miss you.

I’m at our tree watching the mighty kookaburras flit around.

You should be here today so we can have fun and be silly and explore the bush together. It’s not as much fun without you. Nothing is.

On your birthday, perhaps the day I find most difficult of each year so far, I reflect on how your vital energy and your calm, non judgemental perspective influenced me.

It makes no sense that you’re not here. That I’m here and you’re not.

You should be here still making your dad and I and aunties and uncles and friends and cousins proud.

You should be here so your maniacal laugh could keep making us laugh.

You should be here so we could still be thriving in our lives, side by side.

It makes no fucking sense whatsoever.

I need your advice. How to deal with people. How to cope with them when I just want to hide from all their bullshit and advice for how I should grieve and what you would be thinking now about what I’m doing. I’m so tired of other people’s grief and awkwardness and having to be gracious and say “thank you” whenever they offend me. How would you deal with it if we swapped? I’ll think on that. You’d have a way.

And I need some of your courage. Just a small sprinkle, please? Put it on my birthday cake later so when I blow out my candles I can wish for an extra ounce of courage. I’m running low. It’s been too long since we were together and I felt energised by your energy.

Sitting here watching the kookas hunt around me was fun. You would have enjoyed observing them. You’d have studied them. We’d have packed a picnic for our hike. You’d have snuck some birthday treat into the backpack to surprise me with and we’d sing happy birthday to us.

Well happy birthday darling. Happy birthday us! I love you and always will.

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