Yesterday, my 74th birthday, I am both happy and sad. Today is a wistful and thoughtful one. I am happy that I have survived yet another year in relatively good health and with my wits still about me; Sad because I don't have my parents with me to help celebrate. I always knew that this day would come, and I have, for years, secretly thanked my lucky stars as I watched my contemporaries lose their parents one by one. Now that it has finally arrived, my intellectual sympathy for their loss is now compounded with my profound personal grief.
So even as I celebrate my birthday with my Indiana family, I am also thinking about my now greatly reduced Wayne family and Brandon Avenue and memories of the past celebrations. My parents were the glue that held together the entire East Coast family of cousins, aunts and uncles. We would be together every major holiday and my dad would cook the family dishes and a good time would be had by all. It's all gone now, just a memory and that's exactly the point.
As long as we remember, all is not lost. And while I may forget to close the door, or turn off the lights, or that final grocery item at the store, I remember those family times and hold them close to my heart because as long as we remember, all is not lost.
I send my gratitude for those who sent notes of sympathy and celebration.
