I miss your laugh the most.

I miss your laugh the most.

You threw your head back when you laughed.  It was loud, honest, and generous…inviting everyone within earshot to listen in on the joke and enjoy it alongside you.  I loved hearing it in person, over the phone, on my voicemail.  Your laugh NEVER failed to put a smile on my face.  Whether we were laughing over those hats Lindsey made us wear at my bachelorette party, or a totally inappropriate joke at Christmas dinner, or something your dad did that was delightfully ridiculous…the laugh always made me feel like I was in on something special.  My girls loved it, too.

I still can’t quite believe that it’s gone.  The news came while I was on vacation, and it’s like I left the shock and a weird piece of the grief behind in that little airbnb up north where I got the news and cried myself to sleep.  Covid makes everything crazy.  No funeral, no ceremony, no closure.  I never even really talked to anyone about it, save Don and my family.  For three months, I’ve just been quietly pretending that you’re still in Florida, that we haven’t caught up in a minute because we’re busy, and that we’ll catch up soon.

I loved those trips to visit you.  You made me feel so special when I got off the plane…a cocktail for me in the car, lunch and mojitos outside somewhere gorgeous, an afternoon at the spa.  We cooked together, we went to the beach, we shopped, we got dressed up and went out somewhere cooler than I ever felt like I belonged.  We stayed up late talking and snacking, flipping through cookbooks, worrying about our parents, sharing cute stories about H, discussing what it would be like when I had kids and all the cousins could be together.  We always planned the next trip home for you or the next visit to South Florida for me.  You were the big sister I didn’t have.

Until we didn’t anymore.  Demons are funny.  I’ve had way more experience with them than I care to admit, and I’ll never understand who they latch onto or why they come or how some people can get free while others try so fucking hard every single day and still can’t catch a break.  If I stay up too late and get overtired, this is the thought that haunts me as I think about raising my girls.

Today you would have been 49.  I sent the flowers to your daughter instead of you.  She is beautiful, smart, self-aware, and carries herself with so much grace for 19.  You were SO proud of her, and you’d be prouder today. 

Love you more, Cass.  It’s not the same without you.  Xoxo.