Brianna died on October 8, 2022. Today is her birthday. Early this morning, Buddy and I walked through the woods and listened. And got wet.

The rain splashed on the leaves of so many trees, falling, like tears, from the heavy sky. Birds started the day the way birds always do: by singing. They sing to let others know where they are. They sing to communicate with each other. They sing in gratitude for another day.

I know Buddy doesn’t mind when it’s raining. He’s always happy to go outside, as long as I am with him. The goodness of life is shaped by who you are with.

A year ago today, Peggy brought Brianna’s children, Julena and Dante, to spend the day with me at the barn. It was a warm day, the sun was bright.

Brianna was in jail. The tragedies that result from drug addiction are horrible.

I took a picture of the kids and Buddy, up by my garden. We emailed it to Brianna and posted it on Facebook. We wished her a happy birthday.

There was an indescribable sadness because Brianna wasn’t with us. That sadness, at times, was wrenching, knowing where Brianna was. We did the best we could; it was a group effort to “fake it til you make it.” Never could I have imagined a worse way of experiencing Brianna’s birthday. And yet, on that day, Brianna was hurting more than all of us.

It’s raining today. And Brianna isn’t here. Julena is on vacation with others at the Outer Banks.

Still, Peggy and Dante and I, along with Andrea and her family, planned on going to mass together this morning, then coming back to my place for lunch. Peggy got a cake and we planned on lighting a candle and singing “Happy Birthday.” Of course, we would have been singing through our tears.

Nonetheless, we decided it was the best thing to do.

Yesterday, Dante’s grandfather let us know that Dante would not be allowed to see us today. Dante’s grandfather is angry and wants to hurt Peggy and the rest of us.

I realize that he is hurting. We are too. I think the best way through this kind of darkness is to keep on looking for beauty, hope that light will return, and, as best you can, be kind. Days like this are even more heartbreaking when someone uses their pain as an excuse to be mean.

It’s Brianna’s birthday. It’s raining harder now than it has all day. The Weather Service has issued warnings about dangerous roads and flash flooding. The birds have stopped singing.

We won’t be singing either. We’re not even together. We are each in our separate homes, alone.

Crying is somehow sadder when you’re by yourself.