My five blog readers must be sick of you by now. You’re all I write about. All this melancholy reminiscing isn’t good for my image…or the dark circles under my eyes.
Tonight is the youth group’s progressive dinner. Last year it was my first big youth event to attend. I vaguely remember the first house…but I remember yours. We played a post-it game with Christmas-related words on our backs…had to ask yes/no questions to find our partner. TR was my partner and it was the open door to a friendship with him and his family. The warmth of your home, the smiles on your face as we laughed and enjoyed the holy season.
I’m skipping this year’s festivities. I had no idea they were visiting your house until I read it on Facebook. I don’t know that I could’ve walked through the door, seen your family pictures on the walls all the while knowing there’d never be another family portrait taken.
I miss being at church sometimes, I miss being part of something and I feel left out, though it is my own doing. I keep thinking about one of the last e-mails I received from you. You said you missed me but since time was moving so fast, you’d likely blink and I’d be right in front of you again. Now I’m the one wishing you were in front of me, standing in your kitchen, making one of your delicious pizzas.
Holy shit…it’s Christmas again…You’re missing out…and we’re missing you.