Today would have been my brother's 23rd birthday. Instead, he's been at 19 for several years now. That's one part of his death that takes an adjustment. His sisters around him all age and live to see another year pass, but he is eternally nineteen. I mentally tally the passage of another year, the arrival of another April 30th, and I can tabulate what his age would have been had he still been here. But there's another dynamic; I can only imagine him as a teenager. I speculate what his life could have been, someone catches my eye because of some passing resemblance to him, but he is securely in place as the blond-haired introvert that sported dry humor, a creative streak, and would come to rival me for pages read.
So today on Jon's birthday, I indulge in an afternoon off and time to reflect. In fact, it's the first time since I finished it that I've picked up my NaNoWriMo project and have begun reading. It has been good to isolate myself to do so, as I am unfortunately adept at closing off my thoughts and feelings when it suits me.
It's difficult to articulate today, or to understand how, even when years have passed, just a simple date on a calendar can mean so much. I guess all I can say is that I'm feeling thoughtful.
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