Melancholy

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.

Comments

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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