Dear Jay, 

It's been 11 months since I've written. I've wanted to write you numerous times. I haven't made time for it. Sometimes I avoid it. Writing is emotional, cathartic, sad, painful. It's a time to process my feelings and sometimes I just can't. Don't want to. Nearly two years later and it is still that hard, that painful at times. Not a day goes by that I don't think of you, wish you were here, wonder what life would be like if you were still here with us.

We moved. I love our new house. Moving was a good decision for us. It felt like a fresh start that I longed for in many ways. So, you can imagine my surprise when a wave of sadness hit me. It has stuck with me most of the month. I didn't expect it. I didn't see it coming. Grief is a long, hard journey full of the unexpected. I get it now - why moving brought out so many emotions. It marks a new chapter. One that does not include you, one that I never wanted. It feels like I'm accepting life as it is all over again. Life without you. I'll never like it. I'll never be okay with it. You've been gone nearly two years. That horrifies me. I can't figure out how time has passed so quickly.

Emery asks about you all the time. I try my best to answer her questions. She doesn't understand yet. She knows you are in heaven. She knows you live in her heart. She wonders when you are coming home. I wish she didn't have to ask questions about you. I wish she didn't have to figure it out. Tonight she fell asleep in my lap with her head on my shoulder. I just held her. It was the best moment of the weekend for me. Not because she was asleep, but because I got hold her and love her and for a moment, she was my baby again. 

Cora is nearly 15 months. She doesn't let me rock her to sleep anymore. She's too wiggly. She's a ray of sunshine though. She's joyful and curious and sassy and loving. She has beautiful blue eyes. She throws food at the dinner table, hoards Cheerios, recognizes treats and squawks for them like no other. She waves at people like a queen. She could almost be Emery 2.0. I wish she had the opportunity to know you. 

Our new neighborhood has lots of kids. We've been here less than a month and we've met a bunch of our neighbors already. Emery is amused by all the people riding bikes in the neighborhood. Arabelle loves to do cartwheels in the grass. Cora is happy on the driveway; she's not sure about the grass yet. The girls are happy. They have friends in the neighborhood. They ran around the yard squealing with laughter and delight the other night after some friends stopped by to say hello. This is why we moved. Watching them play and laugh and be carefree made my heart more happy than I can express. 

I miss you. I miss our life. I miss holding your hand in the car. I think of that all time. I want to reach out for you, for your hand. I want to lean on you when I need some extra support. I miss the small things that made up our life together. 

You are always in my heart. I love you. 

​Courtney 

Dear Jay, 

I knew it would come one day. I didn't expect it tonight though. Why didn't she get to tell you goodbye when you went to the doctor? Did I get to tell you goodbye? So much she doesn't say, so much she keeps to herself. She's just like me, but she's only 5. Too much weight for someone so young. Missing you is hard enough, not having an opportunity to tell you goodbye adds another layer of complexity to this tragedy. It's just one more thing for her to cope with, one more thing for her to deal with, one more thing for her to wonder about, one more thing for her mull over in her mind, one more thing. It's not fair. It's stupid. I hate it. I wish I could protect her from it. I wish I could absorb her sadness, put her childhood back together the way it should be, protect her from being "different" in this way, hold her tight and tell her it was just a bad dream. I can't. I can't protect her from the ugly parts of life. I so desperately want to. 

We miss you. She misses you more than she says, more than she lets on. Please look out for her. Please visit her when she dreams. She needs you. I can't be you. I can hold her tight and hope my love is enough, but I can't fill your shoes. I can't be you. I am only me. 

You're always in my heart, always on my mind. I love you.

Yours, 

​Courtney  

Dear Jay,

These lyrics speak to me. I get them. I mean really, truly get them. They make me think about the past 11 months. We've come a long way, and yet we have a long way to go. The days seem to drag at times, but the year is flying by. We're approaching the 11 month mark. Ugh, it feels like forever and a minute all at the same time. How can that be? November lurking ahead feels heavy and scary. I don't know how I'll feel. I don't know what to expect. Will it be as bad as last year? Will it feel worse in some ways? I don't know. I don't want to know, but it is coming...

I am anxious. I am sad. I am thankful I am here with the girls. I am mad you're missing out. I feel guilty. I still wonder what happened. I want to scream at someone to tell me why! Could it have been prevented? Did I miss something, did we miss something? Why you? Why then? Why us? Why? I am angry that we were blissfully doing life one minute and the next it was ripped away from us. Everything changed without warning. I miss you. Can you understand the weight your absence has left? How much I miss you? What I wouldn't give to have you back? To have our life back? To have our story turn out differently? To spare our children of this pain and grief? It should have been different. 

I think of you all the time. You're always on my mind. I'm always aware of your absence. Even happy moments are somewhat bittersweet, because you are missing. 

I love you. You are always in my heart. 

Yours, 

Courtney 

Dear Jay, 

It's been four months since I've written you. I write you all the time in my mind, but finding time to sit down and actually write is really difficult these days. I wish I could tell you I was great, that everything is wonderful, but it's not entirely true. I guess we're working on that...

This life without you isn't easy. It's stupid. It shouldn't exist. You should be here. I still feel real pissed you were taken from us. Sometimes I just want to throw a temper tantrum like a child to get all the anger out. I don't know why I don't just scream and shout until I feel better. Wait, I do know. Too much inhibition. Ugh, can you imagine the stress that's causing? I thought as time passed that the feelings would dull and I would be okay. Wrong. The feelings aren't dull and I'm not okay.

I will never be okay with your death. Not ever. You were too young, too happy, too loving, too important to be taken from this earth. It's not okay. I am not okay with the girls living without you. None of it is okay. I am okay on the surface, but deep down I am still very heart broken. I started seeing a counselor last month. It was time. I want to be emotionally healthy for me, for the girls, for our future, because you would expect that and accept nothing less.

I know I need to dig a little deeper to process all the emotions, but I keep them so tightly locked away. It's safer and easier that way. Definitely not the long term solution. I'm a work in progress. It's so hard to deal with grief and loss that big. 

I miss you. The words are so simple, but the feelings are so complex. I love you forever. 

Yours, 

Courtney

Dear Jay, 

​I'm short on words lately, but full of feelings I want to go away. You know what I think about feelings. They're gross and should be avoided. If only it were that easy. There's still so many feelings...grief, sadness, anger, confusion, loneliness, despair, so many stupid feelings. I say it all the time, but I still can't wrap my brain around your sudden passing, and yet I live with it every day. I still can't comprehend how you could be healthy one day and so sick the next. It just doesn't make sense. Maybe that's why I still can't process it. I know it happened. I was there. For all of it. I don't think of those days much; they're too painful, but I was there with you. 

I couldn't write to you on your birthday. I just shutdown emotionally instead. Must be my brain's way of coping. We did celebrate your birthday with "chicken, rice, & cheese" and chocolate cupcakes though. Arabelle was concerned about who would blow out your candle. We each lit one in your memory. Your birthday marked 12 years since we had met. I never imagined there wouldn't be many more years together. Yesterday was May 27...you proposed to me 10 years ago. Again, I never imagined there wouldn't be many more years together. Last month was tough, this month was tough, I suppose that's how grief works. 

The first song we danced to as husband and wife at our wedding was in a movie I watched this evening...I fell apart. I can't listen to any music you played regularly. No Jackopierce, no Vertical Horizon, no Edwin McCain. I become an emotional wreck. I'm not at the point where it's cathartic, I'm at the point where I get upset before I even realize why I'm upset. I hope that will change one day. 

Sometimes I feel lost without you. I don't know what to do with myself after the girls go to bed. I am still me, sort of. Or maybe I'm trying to find my way back to me? I don't know yet. Either way, finding me without you is hard. I want to keep my mind occupied and busy all the time. My idle mind is a sad mind, it focuses too much on you and how much I miss you. Thoughts of you are always prevalent in my mind, but I can manage and cope with those thoughts (and feelings) better when my mind isn't idle. At some point, I should be comfortable being alone, right? I shouldn't feel lost or anxious about those moments alone. That will come back, right?  

Baby girl will be here next month. I'm actively avoiding feelings associated with bringing our daughter into the world without you. I'm hoping that June's delivery of a new life brings new joy, happiness, and hope. 

I miss you. I'll always miss you. I'll always feel you were taken to soon. There's such an emptiness in the spot you once occupied. To me, you were so much larger than life. I don't believe this hole, this emptiness without you will ever go away. I guess you just learn to carry it over time.

I love you always. 

Yours, 

Courtney  

Dear Jay, 

It's been six months. I don't know where the time has gone; life has moved so fast. Arabelle finished pre-k yesterday day. In place of a pre-k graduation, her school did a spring musical. She was great. She danced and sang and smiled. You would have been so proud. I cried because you weren't there, because my heart smiled at her beautiful spirit, because I was so proud of her, because I was sad for her that you are gone, because there's so many of life's "firsts"' that we'll have to do without you. 

Your 39th birthday is in five days. It'll also be six months since your memorial service. Baby #3 will be here in less than six weeks and our nine year anniversary is in six weeks. I have many different feelings about all of this; many feelings I want to go away.  I just keep thinking about what you would tell Arabelle when she was upset, "take a deep breath, it'll be okay." 

I know it'll be okay, a different kind of okay, but okay nonetheless. Sometimes, most of the time, this isn't the version of "okay" I want. I want a life with you in it. I want a life with my husband in it. I want a life where we raise our daughters together. I want a life where our daughters have their daddy. I want a life where I don't have to tell a two year old where her daddy is. I want a life where I'm bringing our 3rd child into the world with you. I want life that's full of experiences and not just memories of you. I want our old life back. I actively focus on accepting life as it is now, because I think that's emotionally and mentally healthier, and I think you want us to thrive. But my heart is still broken. I still miss you every day. I still think of you every day. I still wonder why you're no longer here with us. I still can't process the reality of it all. I still don't understand...I never will. 

I miss you like I've never missed anyone. I love you forever. 

Yours, 
​
​Courtney 

 Dear Jay, 

Sometimes the pain of your loss takes my breath away. Sometimes I cannot look at your pictures without feeling angry and sad, without crying. Other days your pictures make me smile. I still feel so cheated. Though I know I should be grateful for the time I had with you, I will always feel cheated. I saw us growing old, sitting on a porch, watching our grandchildren play, reflecting on our life, and happily being retired together. I thought that was a given, not a maybe. How stupid I was and how frustrated I feel when people say, "you have time." No, that is not true; it is not a given, it is not a guarantee.  

I still can't get my mind around what happened. Most of the time I try not to think about those days in November. They were the worst days of my life, the scariest, most painful, most heartbreaking, longest, and hardest days I've ever been through. I hope and pray we never experience days like that again in the future.     

I feel more edgy, anxious. grumpy, and scared as your birthday approaches, as Baby Girl's arrival approaches, as time passes. Maybe it's the hormones and maybe it'll pass. Maybe it's part of the grief. I think Erich told me the four to six month window is hard as acceptance sets in. We're approaching six months already. Can you believe that? Time move so fast. With all the sudden changes, I feel overwhelmed at times. I suppose that's not out of the ordinary though. You'd always tell me to relax, to sit down, that I didn't have to do it all. Now, I do have to do it all - not all at once, of course. But I have to do it all. You're not here to help. I have handle kids things, baby things, house things, work things, bills, laundry, discipline, and the list goes on...all things. I feel pulled in many directions, which leaves me tired, stressed, grumpy, and just drained. All of those things are taxing for anybody, but especially for me....a pregnant, grieving, introverted mother of two. Going to the beach this summer would have been nice. I probably would have stayed down there for a couple weeks, just to take a break from our life. Maybe I'll get to escape down there after baby is born?  

I had a dream about you the other night. We were outside somewhere and you ran by, but didn't see us or hear us calling for you. Right there, but out of reach at the same time. The few dreams I have had about you seem to reflect the struggle in my mind...the notion that you're both here with us and in heaven. I want a dream where you see me, where I can talk to you, where you're not out of reach...just one. 

I love you always. I miss you more than I could ever express. 

Yours, 

Courtney 

Dear Jay, 

It's the 1st of May. You would tell me it's your birthday month. I would roll my eyes and tell you your birthday was cancelled. Secretly, I'd be trying to find you the perfect gift. I'd conspire with Arabelle to make you a cake. You and I would probably try to plan a night out with friends, but know that a quiet evening at home with the girls would be perfect, too. I miss you. I miss celebrating life with you. 

The month of April was tough emotionally. I had many rough days, many days I would have drawn strength and peace from you, many days I felt the pain of your absence very acutely. We celebrated Emery's 2nd birthday without you. I don't know how, but we managed. How could a two year old have lost her daddy? She didn't get a chance to even know you. Your parents came down for Emery's birthday. It was the first time we had seen them since Christmas. It was so good to spend time with them, to have them here with us, but it was bittersweet as well. You were missing. 

I took the girls on our first vacation without you during Spring Break. Nanny and Papa came with us. It would have been tough for me to mange without them. We went to Chattanooga and did the zoo, aquarium, Children's Museum, walked across the pedestrian bridge to a park on the water, ate hot dogs, ice cream, biscuit sandwiches, pizza, and drank too much Coke. The girls had a really good time. Arabelle picked out a blue and purple, semi-sparkly seahorse for herself and Emery. Emery carries hers around just like Arabelle did with the pink otter from the Atlanta Aquarium. 

The trip was emotional, just like everything else this month. Our last trip to Chattanooga was our first overnight trip as a family of four. We took Arabelle to see Thomas the Train. I'm not sure if Emery was even six weeks old. You and I met there some on the weekends when we were doing the long distance thing. I have many memories of us there. You should have been there. It was one of many firsts without you.

I co-hosted an evening co-ed baby shower for Doug and Lindsey. It was full of BBQ and beer and jokes about Doug being a dad. You would have loved it. Many good friends were there, but you were missing. 

Last weekend, Nanny and Papa moved to Athens, or really Oconee County. That was also emotional. They are here and you are not. Their new place is less than 10 minutes down the road. It's good for the girls, it's good for me. I am relived to have them to close now. Things are becoming more challenging as Baby Girl grows. I'm starting to slow down and my body aches. I'm just so grateful and thankful they're here in the OC with us. The girls were both sick a couple times this month. I had a few days I didn't feel well. We had some additional minor plumbing issues, the AC died...yes, for real. Ugh. Fortunately, Papa is right down the road and was able to meet an AC technician at our house and help me assess my options for repairs or replacement. We're getting a new AC tomorrow and Papa will be at the house to handle that. So, yes, very thankful they are so close. 

I'm preparing for Baby Girl's arrival, which meant sorting through your things in the guest bedroom. You guessed it, also emotional. It also meant moving your furniture to the basement and shifting some other things around. Again, thankful Nanny and Papa are here to help me shift things around. 

To end the month, a group of volunteers from Chosen for Life, part of Both Hands, were here yesterday to spruce up our yard. They tore out all the junk in the backyard, dug up dead shrubs, cleaned out the building debris, planted many flowers and shrubs in the front and backyard, gave us a fire pit for roasting marshmallows, and put together an amazing play set for the girls. There were over 60 people here giving us a beautiful yard. They even helped move some of the furniture and got rid of some of the junk in the basement. They were here, because you are not. 

So, April was full of celebrations in many ways, and all those celebrations were without you. Perhaps, that's what made April so tough. April has ended and now we're headed into your birthday month. We all miss you very much. I still don't see you in my dreams, but I hear other people do. I hope you are visiting Arabelle. She needs to know you're there. She misses you deeply and I think she struggled some this month. 

I love you forever. I miss you deeply.

Yours, 

​Courtney 

Dear Jay, 

Did you know I never mentally planned a wedding, or dreamed about my future husband, or having children until you came into my life. No, that didn't happen immediately after I met you. It was on that road trip to the Sugar Bowl in Atlanta at the beginning of 2006, nearly a year and half after we met. Prior to that, I envisioned myself successful and independent...and single. 

I didn't want to meet you. I wasn't interested in dating. I was trying to get my head on straight. I dated a little in college, but basically had one long term relationship. When that ended, I saw it as a good opportunity to figure out who I was, what I wanted, and where my life was going. I declined to meet this "guy that might be perfect match for me."  But then a few nights later, we met anyways. I liked you immediately, even though I tried to blow you off. You lived out of state and I made assumptions about you. (I was wrong.) Maybe that's why you were so attracted to me? At the time, I was too head strong to fall into your jaylowe trap. Ha. We see how that turned out. 

Somehow we set out on a long distance dating adventure. I remember the first time I visited you in Nashville. You took me on a river boat cruise and I thought it was sweet and fun. Later you said I got wine drunk. I don't know if I remember that part. I feel like I saw you a fairly decent amount that fall despite your hectic work schedule and my school schedule. We made it work for awhile. 

Things got a little tricky about six months into our relationship. Life took us in different directions and we parted ways. I believe you wrote a post about how you weren't finding yourself in love with me...in hindsight, I don't think either one of us was ready to accept the significance of our feelings for each other. We both needed to grow up and let go of some baggage.  

When we broke up I felt like our time wasn't over, something in my gut told me that. I felt like things would work out if they were meant to be. I was upset when we broke up. It was a different kind of upset, more profound and real. I didn't talk to you for awhile, I wasn't trying to be your friend. Some might say you broke my heart in the early part of 2005. I would roll my eyes at that. 

In the later part of 2005, it was like a force drew us together. Everything was different and the same in some ways. Our relationship was better, we were better, we were more mature, we had left our baggage behind. Maybe those nearly 10 months apart helped us grow up. 

Suddenly, I could see a future...with you. I remember the first time you told me you loved me. I remember when I realized I was in love with you. I wanted to be with you. All the time. I wanted an opportunity to live in the same city as you. To have a normal, not long distance relationship. Much to my surprise and delight, we were engaged before I moved to Nashville.

It wasn't happily ever after. It was happily build a life together. We had such a deep mutual respect and consideration for one another that we communicated and worked through the bumps of merging your life with someone else. We learned to make decisions together, to lean on each other, to embrace the moments. You taught me to view life as an adventure, to value people, to nurture relationships, to lighten up (sometimes), to laugh every day, to love with your whole heart, to be a better me. 

You were totally different from me. You lit up my whole world. You painted a different future. You changed my life. You were my perfect partner. You were simply amazing. I miss sharing my life with you. 

I love you forever. I miss you all the time. 

Yours, 

​Courtney 

Dear Jay, 

It's been over two months since I've written you. I don't know if I've been avoiding writing, which really means avoiding my feelings, trying to focus on other things, or just surviving. I suppose that's not entirely true. I could say I'm giving myself a mental and emotional break, but I prefer to hide my feelings, I bury them, I avoid them, I ignore them. I don't want to feel sad or empty or lonely, but I do. There is such a deep pain that feels the spot you once occupied. I am lonely and I feel lost. There's an emptiness without you, a gaping hole, an awareness that you're always missing. I don't know where I'm going, I don't have a plan, I feel like a rudderless ship. 

I still don't believe this happened to us. I still can't believe something like this could happen. Some days it feels like it just happened yesterday, other days it feels like our life has always been this way. Grief is a weird thing; it messy and erratic and ugly. The reality of our life is hard to deal with, it is still so overwhelming, and painful. Sometimes I feel very angry that you're gone, other times I think my broken heart could tear me apart. 

I worry about the girls. I've said this before, but how will I ever be enough for them? Why do they have to grow up without their daddy? I hate it. They're just too young. I worry I'm too hard sometimes and too soft other times. You kept me balanced. Maybe I overreact sometimes, maybe I'm not patient enough, maybe I'm just not enough, maybe I wasn't cut out to do this without you? I just don't know. 

I look at pictures of Arabelle with you and I worry that she doesn't smile with me like she did with you, and it breaks my heart. Arabelle woke up crying the other morning. She said she missed you, and the dogs. Our life has changed so much so quickly. She's only four - why does she have to deal with this ugly part of life already? Emery has called out for you recently. She's gotten upset and cried for daddy. She knows you're not here, but she doesn't understand what happened yet. One day, I'll have to explain to her what happened...and I'll have to tell Baby Girl #3 as well. Life is unfair, but I wish the girls weren't learning how unfair it can be so early in their lives. 

You've been gone nearly five months. The permanence of your loss is painful, the grief has caught me off guard many times in the last couple weeks. I've struggled to keep my emotions at bay. Sometimes it's a song that triggers tears out of nowhere, or the realization that there will be many firsts without you, or a picture that overwhelms me. I miss you more and more with each passing day. I can't tell you what I'd give to hug you or hold your hand...just one more time. 

I love you forever. I miss you always. 

Yours, 
​
Courtney