loved and lost

  I admit that I have a lot of stories, and that I use them in order to compare, ease, amuse or comfort people. I've never been one of those one uppers that wait for you to say something then tells a story that betters them over you. In fact I don't like those people. They usually think that they have a lot of stories, and that you are some how interested, but you're probably not. I've also encountered these types under tragic situations and they still try to out do you. It's kind a crazy. Sometimes they even create a hypothetical that includes themselves, "Wow, I can't believe how well you're handling your Mom dying...I would be crushed." Thankfully for that guy, his Mom was at his house doing his laundry, and mine was in a decorative box in the back seat.

 The other night I found myself talking about a friend of mine that passed away years ago. It made me think long and hard about these days that we deem as milestones, because it happened on my birthday. A friend said to me how hard it would be considering that I would remember his passing on a day I'm supposed to be celebrating. At first I agreed. Then a few scotches in, I thought about the fact that my birthday isn't really my milestones as much as it is my parents. They're the ones that should honor the day more than I, after all I had nothing to with the particulars of the day. Truth be told I've probably ruined the beauty of the day by getting drunk, puking and forgetting many of it's events. I'm not responsible enough to respect my own birthday. But what I do remember, and what I do honor is Greg Moore. Greg was special not only to me, but to a entire community. He died during the final race of the 1999 of the CART racing season. We all felt like he was our boy, and that he'd escaped the grips of a small town. And then it was over. After all that has happened, I'm honored to share the remembrance of a fine individual on the day I showed up. A year hasn't passed that I haven't raised a glass to him, and that will continue for the rest of my life. It is literally the least I can do.

It's hard for us to think of death as a celebration of life. I'm sure it's how we deal with something that we can't make sense of. I fear leaving my kids without a father. The thought can bring me to cold sweats, so I have to take the kind of precautions that give me the best chance of seeing parts of my kids life that my Mother missed of mine. No heroin...starting tomorrow. (It always starts tomorrow!) I remember telling T about Greg  and her comment, like many others, surrounded how terrible it was that something so meaningful happened on My Day. Then the unthinkable happened. Our friend Lenny died. T and I had just returned from her birthday dinner when the phone rang. We let it go the first few times, but eventually got the bad news. Lenny was this amazing man. He truly affected everyone he met. Our circle of friends had felt inpenetrable for years, and our strongest member fell. We all spent long periods of time looking at the mirror. In a twisted way Lenworth aided turning all of us into adults. And for the birthday's that have followed for T, she has gladly shared with his honor.

So why am I rambling on about such things. A friend has suffered a loss on her birthday, and I don't know how to explain my sympathies except for sharing. I can only hope that during this dark period, she knows that she is surrounded by loving friends and family. That through loss we learn about ourselves, we reflect from our hearts, and we're able to be vulnerable. But it's how we get through is what defines us. When we celebrate our lives, our birthday's and our losses with the same introspection, I believe it creates true milestones. When my sister's boyfriend lost his brother to an accident, I learned that listening is better than talking. When my singing teacher lost a battle with cancer, I learned that everyone deals with death differently. After my Mother passed away I felt like I didn't learn anything, mostly because I was pissed off, but when my best friend's Father suddenly died, I knew that my experience would help. All I could offer were the choices that I made in my darkest moments, and hoped that he would do better.

I have no idea how she and her husband will handle such a situation. She's strong, smart and very astute to her emotions, and he's supportive, and loving. They are also deeply loved by their friends and family, and that support is where it will start. I do hope that they get to the point where I am with my birthday. Where I not only look at life that lead, but also honor the ones that have passed. There is no better day, and maybe no better way to truly mark the day of your own birth, then by a tribute to those aren't there to share it.