Today

I spent my birthday crying. Normally, I don't. This birthday didn't seem to give me much of an alternative. 

Six weeks ago my father died. That alone gives me a heavy heart. I miss my dad so much. 

Last week my father's favorite sister died. My brother was named after her. She was one of my favorites too.  

On Saturday I spoke with my favorite cousin--her son. Eric was in serious grief. His mother's funeral happened that day. We talked on and off throughout the day. Our hearts heavy. I called him Saturday night to check on him. He didn't answer. I texted Eric Sunday. We chatted briefly in the morning. Sunday afternoon he had a massive heart attack and hasn't regained consciousness. 

Today his family spent the day saying good bye to him. His sons are 21 and 28 and are being thrust into a horrible position to make life decisions they never thought they would have to make. I am told in the next 18 hours Eric will be with his mother and my father. He is 53. Hopefully St. Pete will be busy enough with Eric's intake and give the rest of us mortals a rest for a bit so we can catch up on our crying. 

Eric and I had two running jokes. First, we decided to share my birthday. His father passed away on Eric's birthday a few years ago. He didn't like his birthday any more. I told him he could share mine. With that logic I guess that would make Eric 54 when he leaves this earth.

Our other running joke is that it was a crying shame we weren't raised together. My mother often said if we'd lived near these particular cousins she was afraid of the mischief Eric and I would get into as teenagers. The way Eric and I figured, I'd have gotten into more trouble and he'd have gotten into less. But we will find out when I get to Heaven and we finally have a chance.