Happy Birthday
There are so many moments...
...that I recall. Over and over again.
So many times when I think:
“Damn. He should be here.”
Today is Jeff’s Birthday. We should be going out somewhere for a drink. We should be planning a Yankee trip.
But we aren’t, and the light of life certainly dimmed back in 2009.
There was a moment this year when his son, John, (who Jeff would be so proud of) smiled.
I saw the light of Jeff in his eyes and on his face.
So, there’s not a lot left to do today...
...keep that running conversation going that I’ve been having since that horrible year, and just remember all the laughs.
About a week ago, I was in a group text with a couple of buddies and we went all the way through the memories of the golf trip we took back in 2008.
“He wrote Cliff is a fat bastard in the sand trap,” Chris texted.
“He unhooked his own partner’s golf bag and drove as fast as he could down a hill and there were golf clubs up and down the fairway.”
And on and on.
We laughed.
“I miss him every day,” another guy chimed in.
“Tell me about it,” I said.
And to be honest with you, I still don’t much understand it. I still think about how much it sucks, and I still hope there will be an answer...
...so I’ll let it be.
And I don’t really care for alcohol anymore, but I need to raise a glass...
...and toast my brother on his birthday.
Happy Birthday, Jeff...
...the love has grown.
...that I recall. Over and over again.
So many times when I think:
“Damn. He should be here.”
Today is Jeff’s Birthday. We should be going out somewhere for a drink. We should be planning a Yankee trip.
But we aren’t, and the light of life certainly dimmed back in 2009.
There was a moment this year when his son, John, (who Jeff would be so proud of) smiled.
I saw the light of Jeff in his eyes and on his face.
So, there’s not a lot left to do today...
...keep that running conversation going that I’ve been having since that horrible year, and just remember all the laughs.
About a week ago, I was in a group text with a couple of buddies and we went all the way through the memories of the golf trip we took back in 2008.
“He wrote Cliff is a fat bastard in the sand trap,” Chris texted.
“He unhooked his own partner’s golf bag and drove as fast as he could down a hill and there were golf clubs up and down the fairway.”
And on and on.
We laughed.
“I miss him every day,” another guy chimed in.
“Tell me about it,” I said.
And to be honest with you, I still don’t much understand it. I still think about how much it sucks, and I still hope there will be an answer...
...so I’ll let it be.
And I don’t really care for alcohol anymore, but I need to raise a glass...
...and toast my brother on his birthday.
Happy Birthday, Jeff...
...the love has grown.
Comments