Today my brother Tim would have turned 48.  The youngest of four, he would have been the only sibling still under age 50.  He only got 11 birthdays.  I am coming up on 54.

I never acknowledged Tim’s birthday to my parents.  I never called to ask how they were doing on that day.  I deeply regret it.  Trust me, people who have lost someone appreciate it when you bring up that person’s name.  They lived, they mattered; there were lots of good times together.  A birthday is something to celebrate, even after a person is gone.

I saw a Facebook post a few days ago that said something like:  “I tripped and fell into some feelings, but I’m okay now.  I brushed that shit off.”  That’s how it works for a while.  Until you can’t do it any more.  We missed 37 birthdays with Tim.  That’s a lot of shit to brush off.