Another Sad Anniversary

The last ten days or so have been rather challenging.

In addition to the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday, which is nowhere near as much fun without my husband Michael (his charm, wit, love of football and willingness to cook made any holiday much more fun, not to mention more memorable), I’ve also observed two other sad anniversaries:

First, I observed the first anniversary of my friend Jeff Wilson’s passing on November 13.  A particularly sad day, but I said nothing because I was too upset to even discuss it.

Next — today — I observed my friend Jeff’s 49th birthday.

Jeff was an extraordinarily kind and compassionate man.  He was funny in his own, quiet way (often surprising himself as much as me), he loved his four cats, he followed politics and current events and some sports — the latter, I think, so he’d have something else to discuss with me as he knew I’m a big sports-lover.

And Jeff had a rare gift of insight, something I’ve only found in one other person (my husband Michael); because of this, he tolerated no weasel-words, and would not be fobbed off by any polite words (such as “I’m fine,” which to him always signaled something else, something along the lines of, “What’s wrong, and how can I help?”).

I never was all that great at observing Jeff’s birthday.  I wish I had been better at it.

I can say that I tried, every day, to observe how important he was to me and let him know this.  Because I felt that was the most important thing; he needed to know that I found him a worthy friend, and an interesting person, and someone with many special gifts to offer the world.

I miss my friend Jeff profoundly, and I wish he were here on his 49th birthday, just so he could tell me to stop worrying so much about him.

Even though he knew I wouldn’t.