Happy Birthday Sweetie. You would be 27 today. It’s hard to believe it’s been almost eight years. Eight years since your beautiful life was snuffed out. You’ve been gone now almost half as long as you lived.

Mom said last week: for Jessie’s birthday this year I’m just going to invite people to pray, for whatever matters to them, just pray. The first words out of her mouth this morning: I’m just seeing the blessings today. Wow.

One of my early fears – forgetting you, forgetting your touch, your voice, the smell of your hair – was so unfounded. I remember you, love you, feel you as much now as ever. She does too.

Thursday morning, coffee at Skinny Vic’s, just me and John. He has been involved with your project since the beginning. John pulled out his phone when we first arrived for coffee and showed me a photo of a young woman. Her face was beaten. Me, you, and John know this happens every day. All over the world. To millions. We’re working on that, doing what we can with what we have.

After we pray and eat breakfast, John is talking in his East Coast way, making me laugh, when a song comes on the radio. Now, Skinny Vic’s has a 50’s and 60’s retro theme, you know, old school vinyl records on the walls, but it is Adele’s 2010 mega hit ‘Rolling in The Deep.’ It pulls me like I haven’t been pulled in years. Back in time. I don’t see John any more, and his voice is miles away. I’m back at Hartford Union High School, hearing you sing this song, watching you win the talent show.

Our new waitress comes over. We get to talking about you and your project. She smiles at my passion for your story, your mission. She gives me that familiar look, like she’s hearing something she never hears from men, and she wants to hear more. She tells me and John her daughter has had troubles, and she now works for an agency that helps others. It’s everywhere.

I know you are gone my girl, my pride and joy, my great teacher, the light of my life. But I also know you are here. What a weird thing to say. But it is my reality. I know some people must think it is wishful thinking, my coping mechanism, denial. I would think that too if I was them. But they haven’t seen what I’ve seen. From you.
I know that some people must think my life is dominated by your loss and I cannot move on, because I keep telling your story wherever I am, for almost eight years now. I might think that too. I’ll quit telling it the day it quits touching people’s hearts, changing the way they think, making a difference. I don’t judge them for not understanding. It’s not their time. We are all at different points on our journeys.

Most of the time my life is just normal. Normal except for the profound freedom, peace, and joy that lie dormant deep beneath the routine daily happenings of life, until the next little ‘something’ ignites them again. Another surprise butterfly story, like yesterday at the Perc Place, a beneficial coincidence, a familiar song on the radio.

Happy 27th birthday my girl. This confused, divided world full of flawed and broken humans desperately needs your project. Love and Forgiveness. Culture transformation. Thank you for your part in the Great Play. Thank you for the hope. I miss you more than words can say. They were right, the pain never goes away. But I ‘see’ you, and that changes everything.

Love always.