August 13th, 2024
"There'll be happiness after you,
But there was happiness because of you,
Both of these things can be true..."
Bailey
"Bailey."
Just let me stay here.
"Bailey, you need to see this."
Please, Wren.
Not today.
"He must have ordered it months ago to schedule it to be delivered today."
What?
I opened my eyes before sitting up and meeting my best friend's somber eyes and sad smile. In her hand's, a square box. She places it in my lap, and I swallow back a lump in my throat.
It's addressed to me.
From my grandfather.
On my 19th birthday.
How is this happening?
Since August began, I've been dreading my birthday. It seemed like the beginning of a lot of firsts without him. And I'm coming to realize that the firsts hurt.
The first few nights after his passing? I cried. The first dinner with everyone without him? I cried then too. The first box I packed for the dorm, knowing I would be leaving the place that held all our memories together in just over a week? I sobbed.
It felt like the month of August was just intensifying the pain. So yeah, I wasn't excited about my birthday this year, because the one person I wanted to celebrate it with wasn't here.
"Do you want me to leave you alone to open it?" Wren asks softly, and I shake my head. Because I don't want to be alone right now, and my hands are shaking too bad to even open the gift.
He got me one.
He knew he wouldn't be here, and he still got me a gift.
Because it's my first birthday without him.
The tears well up in my eyes without my permission as I slowly peel the tape off the package, pushing the flaps open. I let out a breathy laugh as I pulled out a yellow dress similar to the one I bought all those years ago, but had grown out of since. Holding it out in front of me, I see something fall to the floor in my peripheral vision but I'm too busy trying to stop the tears from falling at the thoughtfulness of his gift.
"You dropped something," Wren says, bending down to pick up whatever had fallen. She rises back to her place on the edge of my bed, scanning over the paper in her hands.
And then her eyes bulge wide, and she goes pale.
"Wren?" I ask, fear paralyzing me.
"Bailey, uh," she sputters, still staring at the paper. "He uh, oh my God."
"What is it?"
Wren's hands shake as she passes me the paper, and I'm quick to grab it before reading it.
Go be a girl spinning in a brand new dress, Bailey. I love you endlessly. Happy 19th birthday, sweet girl.
- Grandpa Matt
Under his note, two tickets.
Two floor tickets to the Eras Tour.
October 26, 2024 in New Orleans, Louisiana.
YOU ARE READING
to live for the hope of it all.
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