Yesterday, Jacob turned thirteen. He is officially a teenager, and I dread the day he'll be too embarrassed to kiss me full on the lips. Cory would be turning twenty two next month. That's the way it was supposed to go, and I wonder what she'd think of this sudden growth spurt that puts him practically eye to eye with his grandmother. I wonder what she'd think of his quiet wit, his silliness within his safe circle, and his adult-like observations of life around him. Would they still be friends? Yeah, I think they would; they went through a lot together.
We took Jake to dinner, and I had a moment in which my heart jumped into my throat: Jake slid into the booth next to me to sit, a first. I am such a chump. One look at Tim's face, and I knew he'd asked Jake to sit next to me...so not the same.
I tried to keep upbeat. Jake deserves happy birthdays. But every occasion that brings our family together will be bittersweet, if not outright painful. After his presents had been doled out, I made a quick run into Barnes and Noble. I paid for a sleek, simple looking black leather journal that was big enough to accommodate Jake's messy handwriting. I took the bag over to a table in the cafe, and fished in my purse for some adhesive and a picture of Cory and Jake together. On the inside cover, I carefully affixed it, and wrote these words: "She's still with us..."
A gift from Cory, to include her, and to validate any pain Jake might be in to not have her at his birthday table. Here is a private container to house his memories and his feelings about losing his best friend in the world. I hope he uses it, when he's ready.
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