2 weeks. • Last night, I mourned all the moments we will never share together, at least not earthside. All the plans we’ll never execute. • It’s kind of funny - our journey was rather nomadic, and while we fantasized, we never had a firm “plan.” People pressured us to buy / teased us about not having bought the home in which we lived. We were OK with flying by the seat of our pants, as long as our kids were happy and we felt fulfilled. • Maybe it’s because this was how it was meant to be. God knows I have no choice but to believe that is the case. • A few nights ago, I dreamt some creeper was harassing me. I could always hold my own & still can. I remember thinking in my slumber, “There is only one man who can touch me.” I still feel that way. I will for a long time, if not forever. I joked with one of your best friends a few days ago that I’ll probably be celibate for the rest of my life. I am actually so OK with that. • This picture of us is from right after you proposed to me. I was about 10-12 weeks pregnant with Benji. After many months of joking about our “collision course” (inevitable union), you told my whole family you wanted to marry me. • You didn’t have a ring because you had planned to do it later that summer, on Kira’s birthday. But this particular Mother’s Day, with my parents, brother, and Kira around us, felt right to you. • My mom immediately offered my great-grandmother’s ring as a “placeholder.” This particular ring, a modest diamond set in beautifully intricate white gold, was the first gift my great-grandfather gave his wife with his first paycheck after they settled and restarted their lives in Venezuela. They had fled Communist Russia with only the clothes on their backs. • Over the years, you’ve gifted me various gorgeous pieces of jewelry. I have been wearing my great-grandmother Kira’s ring because it feels right. A symbol of pure, unconditional love and commitment, and a memory of the day you gave me your “forever”. • GOD, how I miss you.

Today marks 10 days since your soul left your body. It’s also April 13th and Palm Sunday according to both the Gregorian and Julian calendars - something that happens only every 4 years. • 13 has always been a lucky number in my family. I’m embarrassed that I don’t know why. I’ve worn this gold charm from my great grandmother Kira (our + Zia’s daughter’s namesake) over the course of > 2 decades. It’s time I find out the significance of this number to our family. • Your family joined mine in church today. It was so special. Our little girl took communion and stole hearts; we are easing Benji into the entire experience. I loved having your family there. Russian Orthodoxy, as you know, can be a LOT. I mean, we are a lot 😂 • My family and community were so touched to have yours there. You are held by so many. Father George, who recently blessed our home, is tending to us, ensuring we mind our souls and bodies during this transitional time. • I wanted to be polished and to demonstrate self respect today. I realized when getting ready that, all these years I thought I did it for myself, I did it just as much for you. I love being your wife. I always wanted - will want - you to be proud of everything I am. • I am not faking anything, clearly, but I am holding my head high and digging deep for strength and humility. I felt all day today you smiling down upon us, proud of the family you’ve united. • P.S. Benji saw you again today. Like @curlsrock says, “We know Benji sees dead people” (😂) so I totally envisioned you sprawled on my bed making jokes and playing with the kids. Tonight I pray you give me a dream that yields a little peace. I haven’t had one of those yet.

I used to have this recurring dream where we’d broken up. I never knew the reason, but I’d be crushed in my slumber. I’d been discerningly single for much of my adulthood, and when we “broke up” in my dreams, I was devastated because you were everything I ever wanted. • This dream hit me every few months or so, but then I’d wake up and realize it was just a dream. Over time, my amygdala became kinder to me, and I was able to recognize during my sleep that it was just my imagination. • I’d told you about these seemingly unprovoked dreams. In the morning, I was always extra happy to have you in our lives. • I’ve been having these dreams over the past week since you’ve transitioned to God’s Kingdom, only now in my dreamy state of consciousness, I’m made aware we didn’t “break up”. That there’s no text or apology or other action I can take to mend us. • It’s mostly crushing. When I wake up and see the sunlight it hurts marginally less that I can’t send the mending text. But now I wonder if there was ever anything to mend. We were always upfront and forthright about disagreements. Any shit we did harbor, we laid out onto the table. • I never preferred this outcome, but like I told you just three weeks ago, “I’m still both feet in.” • This is one of my favorite photos of us: the after party at my folks’ house after our wedding reception at the Blarney Stone, Benji 6 months in utero (God, I couldn’t want to get into something stretchy. And, no, I didn’t drink that Moët).

Today, I’ve been incredibly angry with you. • Angry that you left us so soon. • You were the best doctor yet the worst patient. I wasn’t a doctor, but my maternal instincts when it comes to my family are damn good. • How many times did I plead with you to get back on that bike? To start with a brisk morning walk and work up to a run? To get a sleep study so that you could finally relish night’s powerfully restorative window? • You obsessed over your patients’ health, and I obsessed over yours. I’m also angry about my obsession. At times it made me ill. • I’m angry today bc our children are being absolutely hilarious (their grief is wild and different), and you’re not here to exchange looks and laughs with me. God, how many hilarious inside jokes have they given us! I know you witness everything from Heaven, and right now I’m mad bc it’s not enough for me. One day maybe it’ll come closer to being enough. • Mostly I’m angry bc you finally were starting to get the bike out. To do the brisk walks. To get out onto the soccer field with Kira. I’m mad that this upswing was when you were called Home. • All I have is my unshakable faith in my benevolent God and that there is a reason. • I found your official wedding ring today. I think you ever wore it twice. You hated wearing rings because you were in surgery several times a week. It wasn’t convenient. Lately I finally got you to start wearing a silicon ring to “remind you of your North Star” - the family of which you’ve alway dreamed. • As angry as I am, my love will always prevail. You’re oh-so-missed, BMitch.

Dr. Brian Mitchell • I had my first recent conversation with one of your patients today. (Don’t worry, we didn’t violate HIPAA.) He was so desperate to reach you. He called your mobile. I’ve been carrying your mobile in case there was someone I’d forgotten to tell. • When he asked, panicked, “What?!”, I told him, “Señor, lamentablemente, él falleció.” • He responded, in perfect English (I felt like an asshole), “No, I know what you said. Is this real?” He cried. He said “I just spoke with him last week. He was the best.” • I hope you see and truly feel now the lives you touched. It wasn’t just your family and friends. F&F who have flooded us with flowers, food, words and actions of love. Every patient you saw felt your undeniable caring and compassion for them and their loved ones. I knew this, because I saw how you operated. • Maybe one of our kids will be come a doctor or other flavor of servant of humanity in ways similar to how you delivered. • While we drown in sorrow and missing you, I can’t help but feel your strong kicks in our butts to getting our sh*t together. You’d tell us to do it for us, but right now we’re doing it to honor you. • We love, miss, and feel you with us, BMitch 🤍🪽