Happy Birthday, Michelle. I wish I were able to celebrate it with you. It’s the first birthday you’ve had in years where I didn’t send you a present, text or call and share in your celebratory day. The day you came into this world, which was a blessed one.
I remember last year on this day. I sent you a plant arrangement, thinking that it was so much better than flowers that die so quickly. With your green thumb, it would live a long life and allow you to enjoy tending to it for the foreseeable future. I thought that maybe when you watered it you’d think of me and my inability to keep anything green alive.
Looking back, at this time last year I had no idea how far your cancer had spread, and we were still talking and texting every day. The previous day I’d edited Chapter 1 of Elizabeth’s book, and I was preparing to send it to you to review. You were feeling better after your session with Chris the day before but still a bit sore and sleepy.
We talked about crafting an email together to Elizabeth about the edits needed and how we were mapping out our plan to have it finished in the next couple of months. I was taking the first developmental edit, and you were going to fine-tune it on the second when you felt better. We made such a great team.
Our conversation was typical. We talked about what you were having for dinner—mushroom ravioli with pink vodka sauce—and watching the football playoffs. It was great having you as a best friend and sharing the minute details of life. I’ve missed that.
January 25th will always be a day of remembrance, when I think back about our decades together and the publishing business we built that had so much promise. It was an exciting four years, and we had accomplished so much. Ironically, tomorrow the remaining books are supposed to be delivered to my storage unit from the Ingram warehouse. I just couldn’t keep Ink Horse alive without you; it was lonely and hard without your creativity and support.
So, I wish you the happiest of birthdays wherever you may be in this universe. I hope that you know how much you are missed by those who love you. Knowing how you believed in a higher power out there, I have a feeling you do.