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.