My gorgeous Jackie! should have turned 39 yesterday. I miss her laugh, I miss her shoulder to cry on. I miss hearing her crazy stories, because no one had weird stuff happen to her like Jackie. I miss talking to her about everything and nothing. I know she would be stunned to hear that Grey’s Anatomy just had its 300th episode, and I really know she would have been soooo pissed by all the brain tumor storylines they’ve had lately (“get a new disease, writers!”). I know she’d be beaming over her incredible nieces and nephews and how much they’ve grown and accomplished. I know she would crack up over some of the things Annie has tried to pull over the years. I know she and James would get along famously. And I know that if she were still here and had been able to start her own family, her children would be the luckiest kids on the planet.

Knowing all of this is a comfort, but it doesn’t make missing her any easier. It doesn’t make it any less unfair that she’s not here.

Happy birthday, Monchhichi. I had some delicious bubbles in your honor yesterday.