My beloved brother Paul, would have been 36 years old today. It's been nearly 4 years since he was killed in a tragic and senseless accident...his life cut short by the actions of a drunken teenager driving a pick-up truck.
My eyes still well with tears, and the back of my throat still burns from holding back sobs of grief....oh, how I miss him!
My Mom, Step-Dad, Eli, Caleb and I celebrated Paul's life last night at a little place called Shangri-La. It's where Mom had taken him on his 32nd birthday, just weeks before he died. He LOVED Chinese food, and Mom told of the grin that he had on his face while eating there. It's become tradition to go there for his birthday. We set out our favorite photo of him and talk about what we remember about him. We don't cry and grieve while we are there...we are just happy to celebrate who Paul was and what he meant to all of us.
I still remember an argument that Paul and I used to have when we were kids. I always thought that I would someday be older than him...that somehow I would catch up to him. He would just laugh and say that I would never pass him up in age...that he would always be older. When I turned 32, it was hard for me...33 even harder. His smile stopped shining at 32.
I have faith in the belief that I will one day see Paul again, sitting at the Father's feet, when I enter the gates of heaven.
Happy birthday to you, my precious brother....I miss you and love you always.