Tomorrow is his birthday. He would have been sixty and we would have been celebrating in a true  Griswald manner.

I am sad I won't see him turn sixty.

I have talked about Cozzi here before. How we all loved him and how he left us too soon. That is no more apparent than at times like this. Times that should be happy. Times when we should be eating cake, watching Papa as he huffs and puffs to blow out all 60 candles with the help of his two best pals. There are so many missed times.

My heart aches when I think about all he doesn't know about us anymore. Our new house, new jobs, Jack in school, Joey growing bigger by the minute. The way the boys giggle and play, wrestle and tackle, chasing one another for the football. The way Jack can hit a baseball to our deck and how he is really starting to get the hang of catching with his glove. The way Joey will sit with Jason and watch the Bears play. The two of them cheering in tandem, filling the void that was left after he was gone.

The way I still sing the National Anthem, with a lump in my throat and a heavy heart, like he is right here with me. The way Jason misses talking to him about sports, fantasy football and spreads. The way we miss all the laughter. All the non-stop laughter.

He has been gone for the same amount of Jack's life as he was here. Still, my sweet boy will flip through photo album after photo album telling stories of his Papa and the fun that they had.

He is still so missed, so loved.

Happy Big 6-0, Coz, wherever you are. We will sing and eat cake and miss you so. xoxo


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