Dear eema,
As soon as February would roll around I’d get the call, your cute, smiling, mischievous voice, “Boobilah, Annilah… it’s almost our birthday.” 
We loved sharing a birthday. I think it made us feel like it was a testimony to our closeness. Like it was some sort of cosmic validation from The Great Beyond. Not that we needed a validation, still, it certainly was fun. 
You came to me in a dream last week and said, “Boobilah, Annilah…it’s almost our birthday.” I started to weep in the dream but you couldn't understand why. You happily assured me that you’ll still celebrate with me. I choose to trust that. 

Your last phone messages have been patiently waiting on my laptop. I’ve been waiting for our birthday to listen. But now I’m wondering… is that a little like listening to a love song after a break up? Am I going to cause myself more pain by hearing your voice on our day? There’s only one way to find out…

Okay, I just listened to all of them. In the very last message you had such a happy, sing-songy tone, "I love you, I miss you, I love you." Your voice echoes in my mind with or without these recordings but it was nice to hear you again. Did it make me sad? Happy-sad, I guess. Mostly happy that I can still feel you. 
The hospice care people send letters to check in. I think this might be the last one they send. I found the letters comforting. 



Your life and your death have inspired me in countless ways. In one of my recent articles, The Zen of Dying. A lot of people, friends and strangers, have contacted me to tell me how it has helped them cope as they go through their own loss of someone they love. You loved helping others. You’d be so pleased that you still are. 
This beautiful poem was read on a meditation retreat I was just on. It touched me deeply at the time, thoughts of losing you flooding my mind. 




I vow to simply bear the truth and to continue to allow your memory to gracefully feed my soul in glorious ways. 
Happy Birthday, eemilah shelee. I love you always,annie