Since Murphy was hanging out and since the first Friday 13th didn’t quite get the task done, March Friday 13th 2009 will be forever inscribed in my memory.
Last Friday 13th, my sister lost her husband and our family lost our dear brother-in-law, Derrick.
Lost. Why does society use this term? Why do we adopt it? Lost. As if, were we to find him, it would bring him back. That if we look long and hard enough, we’ll “find” him hiding out in some closet. Will hide-and-seek fix it? Peek-a-boo?
I feel like he’s playing this big, old joke. Like he’s going to step out of some dark corner any second now and burst out laughing, saying he got us good. I can even see it. He’s laughing as I’m shaking my head, “No, I knew it all along.”
But let it be a joke. Let my sister be genuinely happy again. Let my niece and nephews have their daddy back again. Give back to my children one of their favorite uncles. Take back having to dry all the saddened tears and erase the memory of hearing the sorrow-filled wails. Let the doubts and all the “if only’s” not exist.
Because “if only”…then we would have more time…more memories…more moments…more chances.
