It's Not Supposed To Be
You're supposed to be standing beside me as I roll a 3-foot putt by the hole, saying, "Ah, that's a damn shame."
You're supposed to call me on the phone after winning a bet, telling me, "You're so stuuuuuuuuuupid."
You're supposed to call me after I step off live television and say, "I know the camera adds ten pounds, but how the hell many cameras did they have on you?"
You're supposed to be there, two trapeze artists, my wrist waiting for your wrist.
You're supposed to be here for 40 more years, making fun of me, rooting the Yankees on, side-by-side as Bruce sings for us, teaching me new receipes, comparing notes on the kids.
You're supposed to be calling me every day, getting me involved in all the scams, inviting me to pick NCAA teams out of a hat.
You're supposed to tell me, like you told me two days before you got sick that I should enjoy life instead of trying to understand it.
You're supposed to be hoisting your kids high, and teaching them all the best swear words.
You're supposed to be here, so proud of me and our other brothers and sisters. You're supposed to call each of us on weekend mornings just to catch up.
You're supposed to cook me unbelievable meals and laugh at how much I'm eating.
You're supposed to think right along with me on every possible subject imaginable.
You're supposed to be my best friend.
You're supposed to be here, and hopefully in time I'll understand why you can't.
As Bruce sang, They say you can't take it with you, but I say that they're wrong, because when I woke up this morning, something big was gone.
My dear brother, you left me with one comfort and that's in knowing that I'll always know how you would have felt about something because our hearts beat to the exact same rythem.
You're supposed to be here helping me move this mountain of grief.
You're supposed to be...and somehow, some way, some day, I know you will because I could always count on you.
You're supposed to call me on the phone after winning a bet, telling me, "You're so stuuuuuuuuuupid."
You're supposed to call me after I step off live television and say, "I know the camera adds ten pounds, but how the hell many cameras did they have on you?"
You're supposed to be there, two trapeze artists, my wrist waiting for your wrist.
You're supposed to be here for 40 more years, making fun of me, rooting the Yankees on, side-by-side as Bruce sings for us, teaching me new receipes, comparing notes on the kids.
You're supposed to be calling me every day, getting me involved in all the scams, inviting me to pick NCAA teams out of a hat.
You're supposed to tell me, like you told me two days before you got sick that I should enjoy life instead of trying to understand it.
You're supposed to be hoisting your kids high, and teaching them all the best swear words.
You're supposed to be here, so proud of me and our other brothers and sisters. You're supposed to call each of us on weekend mornings just to catch up.
You're supposed to cook me unbelievable meals and laugh at how much I'm eating.
You're supposed to think right along with me on every possible subject imaginable.
You're supposed to be my best friend.
You're supposed to be here, and hopefully in time I'll understand why you can't.
As Bruce sang, They say you can't take it with you, but I say that they're wrong, because when I woke up this morning, something big was gone.
My dear brother, you left me with one comfort and that's in knowing that I'll always know how you would have felt about something because our hearts beat to the exact same rythem.
You're supposed to be here helping me move this mountain of grief.
You're supposed to be...and somehow, some way, some day, I know you will because I could always count on you.
Comments
There are no words I can speak that will ease the hurt you feel inside. There is nothing I have to offer you to fill the space that exists within you. If it were within my power I would give you nothing but peace and laughter to fill your days, but these things are not within my power.
What I can give you is my love and friendship. If you need to talk, call me. It doesn’t matter what time or day it is. If you need to speak your anger I will listen. If you need to cry my shoulder is always ready. I am here when you need me. I love you bubby, and if by chance you pass before me, do me a favor and ask God if you can bring a friend.
It's us that has to teach his kids what a great guy their Dad was. By doing that we keep the goof strong in us. Let's live like him, have fun and love the best you can.
John Adimey