You would be 59

notes to Carrie on her birthday

March 21 will never just be the first full day of spring, it will always be your birthday. A hard day because you don’t get to age along with us. If you were still here, we wouldn’t have to say how much we miss you, but we do.

Jamie misses talking on the phone about all the trips you both wanted to take.

Christina just wants to talk with you about the mundane things, day to day life.

Roseann feels the same. She also wishes you knew her kids and they knew you, too. They would have talked with you on the phone a thousand times by now.

Lissa wishes she could share the joys and pains of having grown kids with you, the weirdness of being alone in the house after decades of kid chaos.

We all miss the person who was always available to talk, who would always pick up the phone and settle in to talk about nothing, anything, and everything.

Whatever the opposite of an Irish goodbye is, (‘pulling a Carrie’), we miss that, too. An hour on the phone followed by another half hour to say ’bye, talk to you later (it will probably be tomorrow).

We miss being able to walk into your house, always open for a pop-in and chat, for a tea and cookies.

You knew it was people that mattered, not things. You’d say you can have time or money, but not often both, so it was best to make enough money to survive and then save the rest of your time and energy for the people you love.

Your name was apt because you carried everyone. “Carrie-ed” us. And it sucks that all we can do with you now is carry your memory, “Carrie” it, but we will.