April 23, 2020, was the last time I could celebrate my birthday without sadness. Bobby was still in the hospital and had been doing very well. They discharged him and sent him back to the nursing home. I still believed he was going to live.

That morning I called and asked, “Hey Bobby, do you know what day it is?” He replied, “Your birthday.” I teased him and asked, “did you get me something”? He said, “I tried to.” I assumed he meant he tried to get something from the gift shop. I explained how the store shelves were empty and the world was upside-down. He died six days later.

Upon retrieving his belongings from the nursing home, one of the employees gave me a painting. She explained Bobby asked around the nursing home for a pretty box because he wanted to mail it to me. That painting is the perfect final birthday gift because though he is not here, it hangs on my wall and reminds me of his love and thoughtfulness.