“Daddy,” she shrilled, throwing the covers back to cling to his neck in the tightest hug.

“Happy Birthday, baby. You’re five. Wow. How’s it feel to be such a big girl?”

“Good.” Like any child she zeroed in on the flat present sitting on the bed next to us. “Is that for me?”

“Yup. This one’s from Daddy.” She tore at the paper and squeaked the book title out loud. “Have you filled a bucket today?”

“Come here, let me read it to you.” And like every day since she was ours, Ace snuggled her into his chest and began to read the story that would be forever nestled in our hearts.

Through Asher’s actions, Ava learned early about compassion, kindness, and what it was to be generous with love. Now it had a label.

“I fill buckets, Daddy.”

“Of course you do, baby. You fill Mommy and Daddy’s every single day … this beautiful smile.” She grinned at him, the kind of grin that melts your heart and makes you want to be a better person. A happy child’s grin. “The yummy squeezes you give us every morning and the kind things you say to your friends, baby girl, you are the best bucket filler.” She turned in her dad’s lap and squeezed tighter.

We could almost see the wheels turning in her little brain when she said, “Sometimes the little girls are crying when we visit. I like to let them play with my dolls and then I brush their hair.” From the time Ava was small, Ash made it a point to bring us to the abused women and children’s shelter. He had set up this foundation as a gift for Chase and Lili’s wedding and never let a single donation go by without a match. “I feel good when I make them smile.”

“You fill their buckets, and you fill yours at the same time. Don’t forget that, Aves.” He gently ran a finger down her cheek and gazed in my direction.

When she crawled off Asher’s lap to climb onto mine, she asked, “Why are you crying, Ma?”

“Just happy, baby girl. So happy.” Nothing more needed to be said. The simplicity and wonder of the moment was enough.

Ace, Tack, and Ava were my wonders. For always, because forever wasn’t long enough. And even though he wasn’t here in the physical form anymore, Asher still filled our invisible buckets.

I looked at my two best friends and smiled. They were both transfixed on the waves crashing against the shore, lost in thought.

“You guys remember when Ava turned five?” I grinned, thinking about how my wonderful morning went a little haywire later in the day.

“Ah yeah, and the shit show that followed, literally.”

“Come on, Sier, it was the most adorable tea party in the history of tea parties, you know it was.” I did have to agree with Sier, party planner Lil took the Mad Hatter theme to the next level.

“Who thought it was a good idea to have bunnies? I mean, fake ones, yeah, I get it. But these were live freaking rabbits hopping around their penthouse. And not just one, but a shitload.”

“Ava was so happy, a little bunny poop never hurt anyone.” Lil would defend that party to the day she died. Ash and I didn’t give a crap (no pun intended), Ava’s squeal of joy made every turd worth it.

I was grateful. Grateful for our crazy, silly jam-packed life. Grateful for the family he had given me. Grateful for our time together. Grateful for the two beautiful children he left me with. And most importantly, grateful he never had to suffer. There wasn’t a cure, or a quick fix to beat his disease, there was nothing to save him, no chemo or radiation, no experimental trials were going to extend his life. But he escaped his greatest fear. He remembered. He remembered and got to savor every single second until he closed his eyes for the final time. Stage four malignant melanoma of the brain was scary, a petrifying cancer that was unbeatable, but Asher still won by living life rather than letting his disease consume his final months. Our final months … at least here.

Only days after his diagnosis we boarded a plane to Italy. We were hiking the five points in Cinque Terre when Tack pulled me aside. Ash and Ava had run ahead to snap some photos of the vibrant cliffside villages overlooking the sea. This was our final family trip abroad.

“I’m living proof, Mom. You did it with me, and you can do it with Ava, too. I went eighteen years thinking my dad was the shit. You know why? Because of you. You made him that way. You talked about him constantly, about how much he loved me. You retold so many stories and made him such a huge part of my life I never even knew he wasn’t there. And you’re gonna do it all over again for Ava. Best part is … she got him. She knows him. He’s so far embedded in her little heart, she will never ever have a chance to forget him.”

My tears were interrupted by my girl skipping down the trail, yelling, “We need a family picture. I want one for my room. Ma, look! Daddy set up the timer on that shaky rock. Come quick.”

Taking a prime spot over our billiard table in the dining room was that priceless photo. Tack was right. Ava got him. And even though she got him from me every single day, Ash had made sure she got him at all her crucial numbers too, as he liked to call them. Asher loved to tease me about age, knew it pushed my buttons, when he couldn’t have cared less. Age never mattered, for him it was always how you lived out the time you were given. Only took me thirty plus years and one chance encounter to figure that out. But that argument was futile with a ten-year-old girl who just hit double digits, or a sixteen-year-old who would be dying for her license, or an eighteen-year-old who was psyched she was officially an adult, or a twenty-one-year-old legally taking her first sip. Ace embraced that to a girl growing up, those were the numbers that mattered, so he filled a box and tucked it away in a safe place. Inside held gifts for each and every one of Ava’s crucial numbers. They were pre-wrapped and ready to be delivered. Some were small squares, others were flat, one was long and skinny. I had no clue what was inside of any of them, but under the elaborate bow—he so had them professionally wrapped—always sat a single envelope that read: To my beautiful ACE. I love you. To Asher those were the only words that mattered. I could sleep at night knowing our baby had lived, dreamed, and felt him with every step along her path thus far. A path that would undoubtedly wind, hit bumps, and veer off, he would always be with her.

In the end I could have selfishly fought for a few extra pain-filled months with him. Why not? We didn’t need it. Our time on earth was complete.

It was our eternity that was endless.

So here I was sitting next to my girlfriends sipping our bubbly and munching on Hot Tamales, living out my promise to him. We had one path, one life, and now it was my turn to live it for both of us. Tonight we witnessed our son marry the girl of his dreams and watched our daughter spin around the dance floor and giggle with her cousins. Tonight our children gave us too many firsts; I would never jeopardize missing out on any of them. Not everyone gets a second chance. Asher would argue I taught him that, but he taught me to live in the moment because it’s the only time you own. You only have one shot at life—why waste your chance?

Sierra wiped her running nose with the back of her wrist, yes, her wrist, and mumbled, “You two are like a tragic romance novel. I can’t.”

I tipped my head back and smirked at the sky. “Tragic, nah. That’s a cop-out for when you don’t have enough story to fill the pages. We filled novels...” I smiled on the inside, comforted by the truth to what I was about to say. “And our final chapter may have been written two years ago, but I know in my heart, our epilogue is still to come. Until then I’m going to live each borrowed day and love our children and our children’s children enough for the both of us.”

Barefoot and unsteady, Lil sauntered over and grabbed the half empty bottle Tack had left behind. Her drunken brow scrunched and I said, “No. I think we’ve had more than enough.” But she ignored me and remedied our empty wine glasses with the infamous amber liquid.

Sierra went hysterical, almost choking on her words, “Ya think Tack knows why Asher loved scotch so much? Bahahaha.”

“No! God no! Ewwww. Sier, what’s wrong with you?” I shook my head back and forth, trying to not vomit between the fits of laughter. Lil was bent over almost hyperventilating.

There was going to be no yoga, no Zumba, and no running tomorrow. For sure.

But that was okay.

We were good.

Everyone would be fine.

You only live once.


  • 1
  • …
  • 61
  • 62
  • 63
  • 64
  • 65