The 2025 Curveball

When 2025 started, I told myself I was going to do the things that bring me joy and say no to the things that don't. That was my mantra. As we are about to enter my birthday month, I've looked back over the past nine months and I am happy with what I've done so far. But we'll talk more about that in another post. 

2025 also decided to throw in a curveball, because why not? At this point, I'm thinking it's a requirement every year since 2020... 

Anyway... earlier this year, we found out my Dad needs a new liver. While we knew this was maybe something that would happen, everything kind of happened rather quickly once the cards started falling. In June, he was officially added to the liver transplant list. 

We quickly learned that this "transplant world" was filled with things we didn't know. I mean, why would you need to know how your liver affects your oxygen levels unless it's causing a problem for you? 

The good news is that my Dad is pretty stable. He's still able to do most everything he's always done. But he gets tired a lot more quickly. Plus some other fun things he gets to deal with that are all symptoms of liver disease but that you would never suspect would be related to liver disease. 

When he was added to "the list" (which is not actually a list!), he was approved for both a deceased donor, which would be a full liver transplant, or a living donor, which would be a partial liver donation. 

My parents brought home a packet of information from Rochester on living donors. My siblings and I all read through it. There was a very strict list of requirements. No one over the age of 60, you must have a BMI under 30, you must not have any other underlying health problems, etc. We all decided we were going to apply and see if we were a match for our dad. 

When it came time for one of us to move forward in the process to the actual evaluation process, I used my oldest sibling authority and told my siblings I would get tested first. At least, I can pretend that I still have that oldest sibling authority. :) 

In early September, I spent three days in Rochester getting tested. I have a much better understanding of what my dad has to do every time they go to Rochester for all of his tests. It was a lot. (more on that later too) But about a week after that, I found out that I was a match. 

Then came time for the actual decision. And let me tell you, it was a big decision. We spent time talking as a family, I spent time talking to Jacob, along with his therapist, I spent time talking to my own therapist. 

I decided I wanted to do it - I wanted to donate part of my liver to my dad. 

Then I had to get my dad to agree. 

And I get it, right? If this was Jacob who wanted to do something this big for me, I would have a really hard time accepting that. So we spent more time talking and thinking and praying. My parents did more research on living donations and what my recovery would look like. 

Finally, my dad said yes. And so we've scheduled the surgery for November 20th. There is a lot that needs to be figured out before then, so I'm thankful we have the time. But a lot could change during that time too and my dad could get too sick and we would have to cancel the surgery. 

I tend to process things better when I write, so my therapist suggested I think about journaling through this entire process and maybe sharing the journey with all of you. So with my dad's blessing, let's give it a shot. 

So while a partial liver donation was not on the bucket list of things to do in the year I turn 40, here we are. It's going to be an adventure for sure! 

In the meantime, your prayers are most welcome.  

World Suicide Prevention Day: Love is...

I have no idea how to start this blog post. I have no idea what I want to say. Yet it feels like something needs to be said.

September 10th is World Suicide Prevention Day. A day that I will never not recognize for the rest of my life. Losing someone to suicide was one of the worst possible kinds of grief I've ever experienced. One that I wish no one ever had to experience. 

So I guess on this day, I want to say that you are loved. No matter who you are, what you're doing, how you're feeling - you are loved. You are wanted. You are worthy of life. The world is a better place with you in it. The world needs you in it. Please just stay. If you need to talk, I'm here to listen. If you need to just sit with someone, I can be that someone. Just please know how much you are truly loved. 

Five years ago, I wrote this blog post about a song that was commissioned in Austin's memory by his high school class. And for the past five years, I've wanted more for this song. I've wanted to honor Austin's memory in a way that showed his incredible impact on others. 

This past year, I finally saw that happen. The amazing Wartburg Choir under the direction of Dr. Lee Nelson learned 'Love is...' and performed it at their Spring concert and tour. 

I mentioned in the other blog post about how the process of getting the song created was part of a healing process for myself and for Austin's family. Something we didn't know we needed. I had a very similar experience during this process. 

Incredibly, Dr. Nelson sent me an email on Sunday, February 23rd, letting me know that the Wartburg Choir has learned 'Love is...' and were loving it. They wanted to connect with me to learn more about Austin and why this song was created. For those of you that don't know, February 23, 2018 is when Austin passed. To get this email from Dr. Nelson on this day truly felt like a gift from heaven. Or to use a phrase from Dr. Nelson, a "God wink". 

Shortly after, we set up a Zoom meeting with myself, Connor Koppin (the composer) and the Wartburg Choir. Before the meeting, I wanted to try and find some of the things Austin's past students had said about him, to share that with the choir - how important his teaching was. I have a box of things from when Austin passed and so I opened it up for the first time in probably as many years. 

My emotions were all over the place going through that box. We had asked people to send us letters and memories of Austin so that Jacob can read them one day when he was older. But I think I forgot about the amount we did received. I had been saving all these memories for when Jacob was older but seeing them all, I realized that I have all of these memories about AJ right at my fingertips for the days when I struggle to remember him before his illness took over. It was a gift, I realized. (Maybe more on this another time)

Back to the Zoom meeting, I shared memories of AJ. How we met, how much the choir meant to him. And as I talked, I remembered stories that I had not thought about for a really long time. Like when I talked about how he proposed on our international choir tour, I remember how he had asked for an extra key card from the hotel to help hide the bulge from the ring box in his pocket. Or that the night before, he took the ring out of the box, filled the bathroom sink with water and checked to see if the box would float. You see, he proposed while on a gondola ride in Venice Italy and he did not want to accidentally lose the ring over the side of the boat! It's so easy to forget these little things that highlight who AJ was as a person. And so it's so much of a gift to be reminded of them. 

It was also really great to hear from Connor and what creating the piece meant to him. What I hadn't known before this was that Connor actually met AJ. While AJ was teaching at Riverside, the Wartburg Choir came and did a workshop with them. Connor mentioned that he can remember the passion and energy that AJ had while teaching those students. Knowing that Connor knew AJ as a person made me appreciate his composition for the song so much more. 

During the call, the choir sang the song for Connor and I. This was the first time I was truly hearing the song as it was meant to be heard. And I can't tell you how much that filled my heart in that moment. I couldn't wait for others, especially AJ's family, to be able to finally hear the song. 

In another "God wink", the Choir was doing their tour run out the weekend right after AJ's birthday. (The tour run out is where the choir will travel to a few different areas close by and perform the concert as sort of a run-though before the actual tour happens.) The first concert took place in Mount Vernon, where the Mount Vernon High School Choir also performed. Their current director was also AJ's high school director in Tipton. The second concert was in Des Moines where we were able to gather as a family to celebrate AJ's birthday and attend the concert together. 

Both concerts were just an incredible experience. If you've ever been to a Wartburg Choir performance, I don't need to tell you that they knocked it out of the park.

I also believe that the timing of all of this was exactly how it needed to be. I personally am in a much different place in my own grieving process than I was five years ago. I have worked on processing a lot of my feelings and have worked to find myself in a better place. And a lot of this process brought up so many memories of AJ and so many emotions. But instead of being painful, like they absolutely would have before, they were a comfort to me. It was like a warm blanket surrounding me. 

It was so meaningful to finally have this song heard by others. But it was also meaningful because before the song, Dr. Nelson talked about Austin and what this piece means. And it was also an opportunity for us to share the message "You are loved and wanted here." to anyone who needed to hear it. And that is truly what meant the most out of everything. That maybe someone who is struggling would hear this song and realize that they are loved, they are wanted. They would decide to stay. And I am so grateful for that. 

Ultimately, that's what this is all about. To honor AJ's memory and maybe changing the life of someone else; maybe saving the life of someone else. AJ was an amazing teacher and made a meaningful impact on the lives of those he taught. My hope is that this song is a way for him to continue to have an impact on people's lives. 

Please enjoy this self-recorded video of the Wartburg Choir performing 'Love is...' under the direction of Dr. Lee Nelson at the St. Ambrose Cathedral in Des Moines, Iowa. And know that you are important. You are loved. You are worthy. You are wanted. "Let this love blind your shadows."

P.S. I just received news from Dr. Nelson today that 'Love is...' has been published by ECS Publishing. Inside the front cover is a program note from Connor and myself. And a reminder for those struggling that there is a place for them here. How's that for another "God wink" on World Suicide Prevention Day? 

Hello 2025

Going into 2025, I didn't pick a word of the year. I didn't make any resolutions or set any goals. 

There are some things I want to try and do more of though: write more, dance it out (a la Christina Yang), walk more, craft more, be grateful more, walk through the world with more confidence. 

But if I don't do these things, well, that's okay too. I'm not going to beat myself up about it. 

I'm going to say yes to the things that bring me joy and no to the things that don't. I'm going to stand up for myself and not deal with any bullshit. I'm going to rest when I want to rest and go out when I want to go out. I'm going to occasionally spoil myself and likely spoil Jacob more. I'm going to lean into my authentic self and let her be the one in charge. I'm going to do what I want and not care what anyone else thinks. 

This year (2025) I turn 40. And I am welcoming it with open arms. I'm ready to live my life true and fully as myself. Zero f*cks to give (I hope). 

My 30's were chaotic. They were stressful and busy and hard. And yes, there were absolutely some amazing times in there as well. But now I'm ready for a calmer decade. One where I'm just going to live my life the best that I can and let everyone else do whatever they're going to do. (ref. Let Them theory)

I'm looking forward to this year. To this next decade. I'm looking forward to seeing the person I grow into. 

Happy 10th Birthday, Jacob!

Jacob! You're 10! TEN!! One. Zero. Double Digits! I can't believe it. 

10 years ago you came into this world and we instantly fell in love with you. A whole decade of loving you and watching your grow into this amazing person you are today! Wow. 

I'm sure I write this every year, but I continue to be amazed by you and who you are. You are an incredible boy and I am so lucky to get to be your mom. Every single day, I am reminded why you are my most favorite person.

You had an incredible year at school, completely rocking 3rd grade! As much as you say you don't like school, you continue to excel. Mr. Malay was your teacher and in your card to him at the end of the year, you wrote "You were one of the greatest teachers I've ever had!" I couldn't agree more. In fact, I wrote Mr. Malay a separate note myself to let him know how much I appreciated the fact that he was your teacher. Mr. Malay's personality and teaching style reminds me so much of your dad. And I am so grateful that you were able to experience having a teacher like that. Watching you interact with Mr. Malay, I can imagine what it might have been like if you ever would have had your dad as a teacher. 

You also have a strong group of friends. The nice thing about Jefferson is that it's a very small school, just two classes per grade. And you have the type of personality that can become friends with everyone. And you do. In fact, you invited 9 kids to your birthday party this year! And six of them were able to make it! That was a crazy time (mostly for me)! It's so fun to watch you with your friends and when you meet new kids as well. And it makes me so happy to see how kind you are to everyone.

You are still an amazing reader and I love that you love books, even when you don't admit it. But recently, you discovered the 'Diary of a Wimpy Kid' series and you have devoured the books. I just love to see it. :) You are also still obsessed with wanting to be the one in charge, the boss, the CEO. You love to talk about business organizational structures - boards, shareholders, founders, manager, etc. You have your own company, Jacob, Inc. which is very successful. :) You still love space but you have also become very interested in nations. You know where nations are on the map, you can identify flags. You watch videos on YouTube that show you lists of countries by size, GDP, population, military size, etc. You know the craziest things. You also enjoy watching YouTube videos where you watch other people play video games. I'm not sure I understand it, but you love it. And of course you love to play videos games. And sometimes, pretend you're creating your own YouTube video. Your newest game is Ages of Conflict (I think?), which is a war simulator where the countries fight to conquer each other. You also still love playing TABS, Roblox, Minecraft and different Mario games on the switch. 

You are also a very good thespian and you add a dramatic flair to almost everything you do - which is extremely funny when you're in a good mood but not all that fun if you're in a bad mood! ;-) You are still witty as ever, quick thinking, goofy and funny. You are so much like your dad in that sense. You love being the center of attention as long as it's on your own terms and not so much if you're being forced to like a church performance or school music performance. You have this thing where you are against music - not wanting to like music or learn how to sing. Probably because you've grown up hearing how musical your dad was and I am. And so, probably to spite me, you dig your heels into the ground when it comes to anything musical. :) Whenever we have people over for dinner, you are always the last one to finish eating because you talk so much and want to drive the conversation. 

As much as you pretend to love all things bad and claim you want to be ruler of the world, you are a very kind boy. You are so good, so intuitive to those around you, so empathetic, so loving. Even now, you love to cuddle. And I LOVE that you will still cuddle with me. You don't like to see other people hurt and you either want to help fix it or you try to make people feel better by getting them to laugh. I am so proud of the person you are, Jacob. 

I love the person you are. I love listening to everything you have to say and I love learning new things that you teach me. I love watching you grow and learn and discover who you are and where you fit in in this world. I love watching your personality grow, even when you're butting heads with me and we both get frustrated. I still love to watch you sleep, no matter how creepy you think that might be. In fact, I just love watching you do whatever it is you're doing! You truly are the very best thing I've ever done. And I love you more than words could ever describe. 

As you enter your double digits, I wish I could say that I hope for only good things for you. And while I do very much hope for many good things for you, I know that life is not only full of good things. And unfortunately, you already know that too. But it is the combination of the good things in our lives and the bad, the hard, the struggles, that help make us into the people we are. And so I hope that you are able to take everything that happens in your life and let it make you into an incredible, wonderful human. 

I hope that your 10th year here on Earth is filled with love, family, happiness, friends, memories, laughs and whatever else you hope for. I am so excited to be with you every step of the way and continue to watch you as you learn new things and continue to grow. I love you.

Happy Birthday, Jacob! 

Bittersweet Symphony

Today is one of those bittersweet days. Today is Wartburg College's annual day of giving UKnight Day. It's a day to give back to a place that is so important for many people. A day to reflect about why Wartburg is such a special place for people. 

Since AJ passed five years ago, I've used UKnight Day to give back to the place that brought us together in his memory. UKnight Day always falls right around AJ's birthday, so each year I give the amount of how old AJ should be turning that year. It's bittersweet. 

AJ and I met at Wartburg. We both sang in the Warburg Choir. It was on a choir tour trip to Prague where we first got to know each other but nine months later before we started dating, shortly after some choir bonding. We got engaged in Venice while on another choir tour trip. Music was the thing that connected AJ and I. 

AJ was studying to become a music teacher. Music was his passion. Teaching was his passion. And he was so damn good at it. He just had that spark that drew people close to him. We often joked that he was so good at teaching to kids because really he was just a "big kid" himself. But he found ways to connect with his students. He made them fall in love with music the way he once had. I 100% believe that AJ's purpose in life was to teach music. 

So when the mental health struggles, the addiction and eventually the decision to end his own life happened, a part of what I mourned was the lost of AJ's purpose. I mourned the lost of his potential. Because AJ had it. He had what one needed to become great. And he would have been - he would have been so great. He would have done so much. I was always able to see more about AJ's future career path than even my own. And so I mourn for the career AJ should have had. Even during his short time teaching, he touched so many lives. I mourn for the lives that he should have touched, the lives he should have changed. 

I follow the Wartburg College Choirs Facebook page. I like staying connected to this amazing group that brought me to AJ. I love to see the new adventures they get to embark on, while fondly remembering my own choir adventures. But sometimes, seeing certain posts also makes me feel resentful. I see posts celebrating collaboration between the Wartburg Choir and various high school choirs from around the state of Iowa and I can't help but think, AJ should be here doing that. He should be bringing kids to visit Wartburg, to hear the Wartburg Choir, to learn from them. It makes me think about all the amazing things that AJ should have gotten to do during his music career but now will never do. 

When AJ died, former members of the Wartburg Choir came to his funeral service and sang. They sang Amazing Grace and Give Me Jesus. I will never be able to fully articulate just how much that moment meant for me and what I felt during those songs. It was bittersweet. 

After AJ died, his high school classmates raised money to commission a choral musical piece in AJ's memory. The song is called Love Is. The words were written by Brian Newhouse and the music was composed by Connor Koppin. Click here if you want to read a blog post about the piece specifically. 

I am so grateful for this gift because I thought there was no better way to remember AJ than with the gift of music. 

Sometimes I struggle when I think about AJ's legacy. How do I make sure to honor his memory in a way that's worthwhile? How do I help people remember the bright soul and passion AJ had for music and for teaching? How can I help inspire that type of passion in others? How can I share AJ's story to others who are struggling and help them realize that they are loved and they are wanted? 

Selfishly, I want this song to be AJ's legacy. I want this song to reach choirs and audiences across the country, maybe even the world. I want AJ's story inside the front cover as reminder to those who are also struggling that they are loved and ask them to stay. I want it to be a piece that touches the lives of those who hear it. I want it to be a piece that is applauded and recognized for the message it sends to those who are hurting. I want to believe that even after his death, AJ will have an impact in this world. But I have no idea how to make something like that happen. 

So on this UKnight Day, I will hold up my alma mater as this incredibly special place that I still call home. I will remember the lessons I learned, the adventures I took part of and my infinite love of the color orange. I will recognize how this place helped shape me into the person I am today. I will forever treasure the people that I met at Wartburg, some of my most favorite people in this world. And I will be forever grateful for Wartburg and the music that brought AJ and I together. 

'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, that's life. 

The Burden of Questions

Trigger Warning: Suicide 

During Lent, our pastor is doing a sermon series around the theme of "Ask". This week's gospel came from John 9:1-41. Jesus heals the sight of a blind man and the reading is filled with a variety of questions and people wanting answers.

Tonight's reflection got me thinking about the burden of questions. 

I am no stranger to questions. I'm very familiar with questions. In fact, I think I've become even more familiar with questions since Jacob was old enough to talk. Because since he was old enough to talk, he's been asking questions. Questions about everything, non-stop questioning, questions that I definitely don't have the answers for. In truth, there is something amazing about the innocence of a child asking questions. 

But aside from Jacob, I often find that I have my own questions. I'll let you in on a little secret... I'm a bit* of an overthinker. (*I will not be defining 'bit') :) When I start to overthink things, I start to question things. I will question everything. 

Was it the right choice to buy a new car right now? Why does my back hurt today? Why did I not wear my winter boots today? Should I pull my money from the banks before they all fail? What should I say to Jacob if he asks me about where babies come from? How did my life end up in the place it is now? Why are people so cruel and hateful? Should I volunteer to chaperone Jacob's class field trip? What would happen if push this project back until tomorrow? How on earth can people possibly vote republican? ;-) You get the idea. 

Questioning so many things becomes exhausting. And because I like to have a certain amount of control over my life, I really appreciate questions where I also get the answers. Even better when they're the answers that I want! 

But life is full of questions and not often any definite answers. And I struggle with that. 

A blog post from six years ago showed up in my Facebook memories today. The Struggles of Addiction in the Family

It's an interesting thing to go back and read old blog posts. But reading this one hit me in an entirely different way. In it, I talked about feelings of wanting to give up. Now, when I read it, I know that it was less than one year from that post that Austin did decide to give up. And there has been no other event in my life that has created so many questions. 

When someone you love dies by suicide, you are left with so many questions. I'm not sure if it makes a difference if that someone leaves a note behind or not. In Austin's case, he left no note, no email, no voicemail. I felt lost in the questions. I struggled with questions I thought I had always known the answers to. 

Why did he give up? What was going on in his mind at that moment? Was there something that happened that made him do this? Was he using? Was he in trouble? What was the amount of pain he must have been feeling? Was he thinking about me and Jacob? Did he think about how his action would affect Jacob and I? Did he think we stopped loving him? Did he know I still loved him? Did he know how many people loved him? Did he understand how much we would miss him? Why did he think it was okay to end his life? Why didn't he ask anyone for help? Why didn't he leave us a note? Why did he leave us? 

The hardest part of these questions is that I will never have an answer. I will never have any sort of answer to the endless questions I have. That leaves a hole inside of you that I don't know how to explain. It makes my grief feel impossible at times. It feels like I will never find true closure. 

But it gets even worse. Because beside my own questions, there are Jacob's questions. Jacob's questions about his dad and why his dad isn't around anymore. And has he gets older, there will only be more questions. 

I am often left questioning how I'm going to answer all of Jacob's questions. I am struggling with the question, "How am I going to tell Jacob about his dad's death?" When is the right time to have that conversation? When is he old enough to understand what suicide means? How much information do I give him? Do I wait for him to ask me questions? Or do I bring it up before he overhears someone talking about it? What do you say to a kid who's dad decided to leave? How do I help him understand the complexity of a situation when I don't even understand it? What are the words I should use? 

I have literally struggled with these questions since Austin's death. I dread the moment the conversation will finally come. And it's coming. It's getting close. I do not feel prepared. I do not know the right way to have this conversation. And I am terrified that I will handle the entire conversation badly and screw up Jacob. If I'm being honest, it's in these moments that I feel my strongest anger towards Austin. For leaving me to deal with this crap. 

I know that for many of life's questions, there is the opportunity to have faith. Faith in God, faith in His plan, faith for His comfort and His love. And most of the time, that is enough. 

But sometimes, like in the case of Austin's suicide, I struggle with faith being enough. There is a heavy burden of questions that I carry about Austin's death. Endless questions. And never an answer.

Happy 9th Birthday, Jacob!

Happy Birthday Jacob! 

Today you are 9 years old. Nine years you've been on this earth, bringing me joy and love and laughter every single day. 

I continue to be amazed by you as you grow and learn new things. You are extremely clever, witty, goofy, smart, kind, caring, lovable, silly, curious, bright and so much more! You constantly remind me of your father while at the same time continue to flourish into your own person. 

---

I started that letter above to you right before you turned 9. But I never finished it. I'm not sure why. But I remember feeling like the right words weren't coming. And soon it was long past your birthday. 

But now, you are 9 and a half years old. Actually, 9 years and 7 months tomorrow. And I find myself unable to sleep and instead thinking about just how awesome you are. 

You brought home a reading/writing assessment from school this week. At the end of it, you were told to continue to story using one of the prompts. I'll post a picture of the story below (I told you I was going to save this forever!!). 

I read your story and it took away my breath. I sat in awe at the kitchen table thinking, "wow". And yes, all moms are going to think that their kid is amazing and best. And I do think that about you. I was amazed by your imagination, I was impressed by your talent but I also felt this deep admiration for the story itself that you told. A story with such beauty. From my own little boy. 

I think the story caught me by surprise. When I started to read it, I thought it would end somewhere with world destruction and evil wins all - things you love to talk about. But instead, your story reminded me of who you really are.

Yes, you still talk about how you want evil to win, how you wish you were a god who could control the world, how the bad guys are always better. But truly you are the most sweetest, kindest, caring, and loving boy. You just don't like to show those things to the rest of the world. :) 

But I am convinced that you have a truly good soul inside of you. You have a very big heart inside of you. You are a very special kid.

In the back of my mind I can see you rolling your eyes at me, trying to hide or even getting upset with me because you dislike it when you are praised or to hear anyone say good things about you. But luckily for me, you likely won't read this for many years down the road so hopefully this is something you've outgrown!

Jacob, you are, so very truly, the most spectacular kid. You are smart. You are insightful. You are curious. You are full of wit. You are funny. You are dramatic. You are the biggest cuddler, even at age 9. You are kind and caring. You are goofy and silly. You are my most favorite person in the whole world. 

We talk a lot about how much you're like your dad. And that's true. In so many ways, I see your dad in you. How much you love to talk, how you have to 'regenerate' before you can finish eating, your love of farts, your dramatic tendencies. But as much as you are like your dad, you are also your own amazing self. 

I have loved watching you grow over the past 9 years. I feel so privileged to have a front row seat to watch you grow into the person you are today and will become. I am constantly amazed by what you do or what you say. My heart feels like it's constantly bursting at the seams with my love for you. I am so lucky to be your mom. 

I think the first half of year 9 has been good for you. You've got a great teacher, Mr. Malay, at Jefferson and a great group of friends you play Monkey King with at recess. You're taking swim lessons at the Y and continue to improve every time you get in the pool. You're still an avid reader even though you say you don't like to read. But I often catch you reading books when you haven't been told to do some reading. You're astonishingly good at spelling - unlike me, which Nana and Papa like to remind us all of... You still enjoy science and space and a thirst for knowledge of the most random things. You're constantly wanting to google something on my phone for a question you've come up with. 

You've also wanted to learn all that you can about how companies work, who are the managers, the bosses, the CEOs, the board of directors, the shareholders... You want to know it all. And you have your own (imaginary at the moment) company called Jacob, Inc. And while you're the boss and board chair and whatever title you come up with, you're also a very generous boss who pays his employees very generously. :) 

You still really love playing Roblox, TABS, Minecraft and Mario Builder and Mario Party. You went through a time where all you wanted to play though was Monopoly. You finally got the hang of riding your bike and started doing some longer rides with Nana. The one thing I haven't been able to get you interested in yet is music. Either singing or playing piano. Much to my (and probably your father's) chagrin. ;-)   

In just a few short months, you will be 10. Double digits. The rate at which you grow before my eyes never fails to amaze me. You are the best thing I've ever done. 

I love you buddy. So much. And I'm so incredibly proud of the boy you are. Even if you won't let me tell you.