It’s 2am on June 13. Today would have marked one of my favorite days of the year – today is the day, after 5 months of waiting, that Eric would have finally become the same age as me again.  And yet, here I am, forever doomed to appear a year older than him because he had to go and kick it a few weeks before his birthday.

So what can I get for the man who probably has everything up in Heaven? How about a lovingly written blog post, with just enough humor to keep it enjoyable for everyone. The first year we were married I wrote him 25 reasons I loved him for his 25th birthday. *awe* Today I think I’d like to write him some of the ways he loved well while we were together on Earth.

Dear Eric,
I don’t remember, but I think we probably had some reference to 1 Corinthians 13 in our wedding – the odds are heavily in our favor at least because let me tell ya, that is a fan favorite verse. But it’s good for a reason. Those verses spell out perfect love for us, and give us guidelines on how to act on that love. I think we both know that our marriage was far from perfect – FAR – but man we really nailed it those last few years. Turns out we’re much better people when one of us is dying. If I’m being honest, I really don’t know how anything is supposed to measure up to what we had. I am so so proud of the full life we lived, even if that lifetime together lasted less than a decade. We fulfilled all our vows – from richer to poorer, for better for worse, in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live. Take that divorce rates! And with that, here is how you loved well:

• Love is patient. Well, I wouldn’t say patience was your strong suit, but you did let me text you from work to ask you how to do math problems I couldn’t figure out. And you didn’t rush me into talking about you dying before I was ready. I really appreciated that, babes, because even though I’m living it, life without you is still unfathomable.
• Love is kind. My goodness you were kind. (I’m choosing to focus on the friendly aspect of kind, because otherwise it’s just too broad, and I want people to keep reading these nice things I’m saying about you.) You could talk to anyone with ease, and on top of that, you put people at ease. You had a gift. One that only turned into a curse when I was stuck alone looking at my phone because all the rest of the people at the wedding had left besides you and the DJ who were suddenly unable to stop talking about some minor thing you’d found out you had in common.
• Love does not envy. Meh, I think we both envied the lives of others that weren’t dying, but I imagine this particular line is referring to something else.
• Love does not boast. You certainly weren’t a boaster. In fact, I remember you getting annoyed at me for telling people about the big new project you had just been named project manager on – even though you had said yourself that this was a project most people would never even be able to put on their resumes. (If you don’t know, Eric was a civil engineer.)
• Love is not proud. This seems similar to boasting to me, so instead I’m going to remind you of a few things you were “good” proud of. Your nieces and nephews. I’ll always remember the first time I met your oldest nephew, Dylan. You were babysitting him at your sisters house and I came over to watch Green Street Hooligans. Dylan woke up from his nap and you carried him into the living room like you were carrying your heart in your hands. Naturally, within minutes, Dylan had ditched you and only wanted to play with me, but that’s life. You were also proud of finding obscure scotch, or was it whiskey? Honestly, sweetie, I still don’t remember the difference even though you explained it to me a thousand times. And Arie, oh man were you proud of Arie. Granted he was basically just drooling and beginning to crawl the last time you saw him, but your love for our boy grew exponentially with each passing day. Usually I think it’s the mom that has that instant bond with the baby, but in our case, that was you. You were obsessed. Before we had him you had thought you would head home and sleep after I had the baby, but after he was born you barely wanted to leave to get food. We had so many visitors and each one got to see for themselves what I had seen when you had held Dylan all those years ago. You passed off your heart every time you gave him to someone new to hold. Lastly, I think you were proud of me, and I think you still would be.
• Love is not rude. Well, I mean sometimes you were rude. But I don’t remember this being a big problem.
• Love is not self-seeking. After you got sick, you still wanted to take care of me. I remember one night you surprised me with a haircut and highlights. We had cut costs when you got sick, so my fake blonde hair had left, right along with all of yours. So insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but my word it made me feel special that you had planned it all out for me. You also apologized for making me cry (because you were dying) during those last few days…laying it on a little thick, but whatever. 😉
• Love is not easily angered and keeps no records of wrongs. Sorry dear, you can’t win ’em all.
• Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth. I mean, you really loved Game of Thrones, which has a lot of evil in my opinion, but besides that you were good.
• Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes and always perseveres. Indeed you did, my love. You put your trust in God first, and with that came hope and perseverance. I was lucky enough that you also put your trust in me. You trusted me to take notes, to figure out your med schedule, to handle your unstoppable puking at U of M in the very precise way you wanted, to administer your TPN, to plan your funeral, and to raise Arie on my own. You protected me, and I protected you. Your love gave me hope for a life after you, and the courage to persevere without you.
• Love never fails. Though your body my have failed, your love did not. You were my favorite person, my world, my heart. The person I am today is because of you. Your death gave my life the purpose it was lacking. You also gave me our son, and your love lives on in him.

I love you, Eric. I miss you and think about you every single day. I look at Arie and only try and see you in his features and mannerisms. You would join me in loving him so much, and at the same time getting so incredibly frustrated by him. I miss binge watching Netflix and cheering for soccer games with you (the World Cup starts in a few days and neither the USA or Netherlands made it this year! Who do I even cheer for?!). I miss hugging you, and I miss talking to you about nothing in particular. I miss trying new restaurants with you, and finding new cocktails to make at home. But mainly I just miss you being around all the time, and coming home to you. I miss the plans we made, and the dreams we had for our future. I just miss you. Happy birthday, Eric.
With all the perfectly imperfect love I have in my heart,
Chelsea