Yesterday would have been Chris' 41st birthday. A friend from Massachusetts spent the morning with me, then I drove to the cemetary alone. The sun had just broken through the clouds. I had a small Marine Corps flag that I put in the ground at the head of the veterans plaque on Chris' grave, told him, "Happy Birthday, Chris," then burst into tears.

I sat in the car for a while. It was funny, in a weird way. Rob sent me a text message that he had picked up the door for the bathroom going in downstairs and asked when he could come by to finish up some things. He was a Marine, too. But he had no clue it was Chris' birthday. Weird timing. It made me cry more.

I called V2. She was working and was worried about me being alone. My other friend, Robin, was home, so I called her and she said she'd be at my house by the time I got there. I got home, she arrived with some Smirnoff Ice and we talked for a while. V2 arrived an hour later and we all talked some more. I have some really good friends.

I missed Chris yesterday.


David said…
Sometimes it seems the pain of loss never goes away, it is always waiting in the background for its cue to take the stage. Hugs.

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