February 28
In about one hour, it will be February 28; Val and I will say happy birthday to our neighbor/great friend, Jim Whitford, probably at Alexandra Manias (Alex Lynne) and Richard Arnold's wedding later Saturday.
And February 28 is my late brother Brian's birthday; he would have been 51 tomorrow, if he hadn't died way too early at age 37 in 1995, I still miss him badly, and always think of my mother, Sheila, and late father, Edward, and how his death affected them. It was the first time I ever saw my dad cry, the second and only other time being when his father, my grandfather, William Hosey, died in 1998. There are fewer expressions more true than parents should never have to bury their children.
I also think of my sister-in-law, Janet, my nieces, Kim and Colleen, and my nephew, Dan, for the loving, caring, bad taste in music, politics and sports teams (yeah, we disagreed on lots) husband and father they lost way too soon. Brian's community also lost a teacher, principal, coach, recreation director and friend in the prime of his contributions.
But tomorrow won't be sorrowful, because I will, as always, remember the great times Brian and I had together by ourselves and with the rest of our family and friends, and because I will be surrounded by my amazing, loving wife Val and lots of great friends celebrating the fantastic wedding of Alex and Richard and marking Jim's birthday.
One door closes and another one opens.
And February 28 is my late brother Brian's birthday; he would have been 51 tomorrow, if he hadn't died way too early at age 37 in 1995, I still miss him badly, and always think of my mother, Sheila, and late father, Edward, and how his death affected them. It was the first time I ever saw my dad cry, the second and only other time being when his father, my grandfather, William Hosey, died in 1998. There are fewer expressions more true than parents should never have to bury their children.
I also think of my sister-in-law, Janet, my nieces, Kim and Colleen, and my nephew, Dan, for the loving, caring, bad taste in music, politics and sports teams (yeah, we disagreed on lots) husband and father they lost way too soon. Brian's community also lost a teacher, principal, coach, recreation director and friend in the prime of his contributions.
But tomorrow won't be sorrowful, because I will, as always, remember the great times Brian and I had together by ourselves and with the rest of our family and friends, and because I will be surrounded by my amazing, loving wife Val and lots of great friends celebrating the fantastic wedding of Alex and Richard and marking Jim's birthday.
One door closes and another one opens.
posted by Kevin J. Hosey at 10:55 PM
3 Comments:
Hi Kevin. Thank you for this blog. I just read it and showed it to my mother and we wanted to respond and tell you thank you. We both laughed at the bad taste in music, politics and sports portion. The first thought I had this morning was to wish Dad a happy 51st birthday and I'll make a point to drive past the school ball field in his name today and wish him a happy one again.
I hope to be able to visit a bit with you and Val this summer. Mike (my boyfriend) and I are aiming to be out there around June 25th - July 2. I try to stay caught up a bit by reading your blog a few times a week. Thanks again for the words about Dad.
Kevin, thanks for this very moving account. Although I didn't know your brother, I can truly relate to what you are describing; my older brother died when I was 10 and he was 20. LIke you, I treasure the memory of seeing my dad cry for the first time, and the older I get, the younger 20 seems, so I can only imagine what it must have been like for my parents to live through that loss. (My father has lived through it twice now, for one of my sisters also passed away before him.)
.I don't really think about my brother's birthday much, but he died a week or two before Christmas, casting an annual pall on that holiday ever since.
I'm glad to hear there's some joy in your life, too. Magic and loss, as Lou put it.
Yes, Kevin, thanks for this. I was having a severe case of writer's block (or maybe that's a case of procrastination, or my-kid-wanted-attention-itis), and was a day late with my post. We were thinking of him all day, though. The first sentence Aaron said to me that morning ended with "It's just so hard." I couldn't resist the usual Brian response: "That's what SHE said."
And you're right, it's not sorrowful. We celebrate him, every day.
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