Sam would’ve been 21 today. Aside from how blatantly tragic it is that he didn’t get to be 21 or 22 or 30 or any older than 17, I feel deeply depressed when I think about all the birthdays we spent completely unaware that there would be so few. For all we know, any birthday could be our last birthday. But what are we supposed to do about that? No money or possessions or Instagram followers or whatever are going to matter. I guess that’s my takeaway from the 3rd birthday without Sam. He’s dead. And when I think about him, I don’t think about the stuff he had or how many people liked him. I think about all the moments I wish I would’ve put the world on pause and poured love out of my body. Because all the memories I have with him are all the memories I’m ever going to get. You can’t buy back moments and you can’t bring people back once they’re gone. Whatever age we wind up being remembered as forever, I hope there’s lots of love packed into those years.