…… remembered, but not celebrated.

Jim would’ve been 54 today (as I write this it’s Tuesday night).
Instead, he’s forever 47.
And that sucks.
In more ways than one.

I hate that his birthday is so close to Christmas …… which is so close to the day he died.
This time of the year can be one onslaught after another.
And yes, it still brings tears.

But it also brings warm memories.
Memories of baking spice cake for him every January 7th.
Memories of surprising him with a limo filled with friends …… and a restaurant filled with more friends when he turned 40.
Memories of sitting around the table with the kids, having his favorite dinner of roast beef and mashed potatoes.
More memories than I can list.
Which is a pretty wonderful thing.

Yes, I could sit here and write about all of the things he’s/I’ve/we’ve missed out on.
But that would only serve to make me feel depressed and worse than I want to feel at the end of this day.
So instead I’m going to focus on doing more than I thought I would do today.
I’m going to do more than remember him.

I am going to celebrate him.
I’m going to celebrate who he was, and who he still is.
I’m going to celebrate the time we had, for as long as we had it.

I’m going to celebrate love.
Because it never ends.

Long live love.