My Father Was Right



My father always told me, that the older you get the faster time goes by.  Tomorrow, September 11th, would have been Erik's 29th birthday, and of course I am feeling sad and missing him.  It occurred to me that I could look at last year's post, so I did, and it seemed so weird.  Another year!  How could that be?  And now his fourth birthday we've been without him.

I seem to have a much harder time with his birthday than his deathday.  I think for the anniversary of the day our loved ones died, you pretty much don't want to remember it, you just feel that you need to recall the person and mark the number of years they've been gone.  So it is sad, but it is consistent in its sadness.  It's the day they died.  It was probably the worst day of our lives.  There is no confusion or conflict.  We wish it didn't happen, we would change it if we could.  We hate that day.

But, for me, his birthday stirs up so many different feelings, and so many memories.  The day he was born, his childhood, family get-togethers, how he looked, how he laughed, how he loved his basketball. ...
But then those memories spiral down, just like his life did.  How did he get so ill?  Why did he have to get so ill?  How could it have been different?  And then finally, the most heart-wrenching thought of all - what would he be like if he was still alive?

What would he be like?  In our case, it could be that we would have never found the right treatment for him, and these last three and a half years may have been even worse for him than the ones before.  But it's hard not to ponder...what if he had lived and gotten better?  What would he have been like?  Could he have wound up with a job and a family?  Could he have finally enjoyed some of the happiness he deserved?

I rarely think about these things, but on this one day it's really hard not to.  I know everyone is thinking of him more than usual.  As fate would have it, his birthday is on Sept. 11th so it's a day of memorials for everyone.  It's a hard day.