This is one of those days. I guess I’ve kind of been planning for this. Not surprisingly, the pain is no less intense.

I cried when I saw the trailer for the new Star Wars earlier this year. Owen would’ve loved it. We would have watched, and re-watched, and analyzed, and speculated…together. 

See, Star Wars was one of our things. It was a legacy. I love Star Wars, so he loved it, too. We started early. Probably too early, but who cares. We built Star Wars Legos, read the same Star Wars book cover to cover that I read as a kid, watched all of the movies with regularity, made it through all 6 seasons of the Clone Wars series, played Star Wars card games and board games, rode the Star Tours ride at Disney World ’til I got sick, built our own droids and light sabers, viewed the 3-D version re-release the first weekend it was out, shared inside jokes about Tosche Stations and tauntans. 

You get the point. Star Wars, which is embedded in my DNA (I was born in 1977), was not just my thing. It was our thing. And, I had opportunity to see the magic of Star Wars through him. 

The day Episode 7 was announced we began planning. December 18, 2015. He wanted to go the day it opened. We talked about how old he would be. 10. We imagined together what incredible tale the next chapter would tell. 

So, today I am here. It’s late on a Thursday. Soon I will be viewing this movie with my incredible friends Ty, Craig, and Owen’s best buddy, Cole. And, like much of what we’ve experienced over the last 16 months, it is a fitting tribute that we are together. 
As I sit here my tears well and cascade thinking about how much he would’ve enjoyed this and how sad I am that we aren’t sharing it together.