We gathered at the farm, bringing baseball gloves and brownies, walking slow to the edge of the pond and watching the lines and lures swim back and forth. We talked about things unimportant, quiet things and loud things, full of memories and teasing.
We all knew why we were there, though none of us mentioned it out loud. On the weekend of what would have been his 38th birthday, my brother-in-law’s presence was strong even a year after his death. Moving fish from one pond to another, roasting hot dogs over the fire, digging into casseroles fresh from the oven and Pinterest, and smack talking our next round of poker would’ve suited him just fine, I think.
But his dad must have felt differently. At one point he said, abruptly, “Yesterday was his birthday, you know.”
Yes, we knew. We remembered. It’s why we were there.
Today our nation remembers, and many still grieve. I’m talking about how we all remember (and grieve) differently at (in)courage today. Join me there?
