29.
So, it’s my birthday (well, at least for the next 23 minutes) which means it’s exactly one year today since we noticed Isla coming down with what we now know to be Type 1 Juvenile Diabetes. A moment of sad.
And a week ago tomorrow our lives changed even more when we found out my brother’s fiancee had suddenly + tragically passed in her sleep at the age of 25. I still don’t have the words to describe the loss we feel. A lot of moments of sad squared.
No, sad infinity.
Yesterday at her funeral service I urged Isla to thank the “nice man” with the name tag Mauricio for all his help. I was unnecessarily relentless about thanking “the nice man.” But now there’s question whether or not Mauricio (super short hair, zero visible boobage) was indeed a man + I feel absolutely awful that I may have hurt this person’s feelings.
It’s all I can think about. And I know it’s misplaced emotion + misdirected energy. And I know Mauricio is a boy’s name (please tell me it’s universally a boy’s name!). But it’s nearly midnight, I’m on my third cup of milky tea, the house is still, I have three newborn albums for work on the go + all I can fret about is whether I harmed someone’s self esteem so genuinely unintentionally.
Clearly, I’m where the party’s at. Woot woot, 29. Here we go. OY!!!!
