So I told my brother that today. I told him passed away. He nailed his age “he must have been “this old”” I said exactly. That’s exactly how old he was. I said, the memorial is at her house in 2 weeks. I’m thinking I want to send them some food or something. Order it from there. I can’t and would be there, I would feel out of place, and it’s at a weird time weekday. I want to send them food or something.
He said something that hit me. He goes “would they even know who we are anymore?” Took me by surprise. Yeah, they would. Come on man. They would know who I am??? It had me thinking. But then it was 2 different things to each of us. Him and her. Me and her were the same age. I met her and her mom, you I actually believe were taking a nap. This is the 1970’s, and I’m seriously pretty sure he was taking a nap. In a crib. Out. I have seen them, her not recently, but recently. There is no damn way she doesn’t know me. Any owlf them. That would depress the living s*** out of me. That would be a huge kick to my, I don’t want to say ego, but it’s probably my heart.
He got to my head though and made me realize that might be too much. It’s me wanting redemption with someone who probably doesn’t really care because she is in a place where she belongs. It’s far beyond a time when we were 2 single kids with no idea where we were going. I might be sorry for things and hurt for things, but those are my own experiences. It’s something different to her now. That’s not really something I want to touch either. I said a few words, I guess I should leave it there.
