His Birthday Today… If Only

What would I give, or give up, to go back to those hours, those days before January 20, 2019? Back to the time when my dear friend Don was still alive, still present in this life, and mine. To be celebrating with him today, on what should be another of his birthdays.
 
When you think back to your younger days, you are amazed at the things you so yearned for, especially when put in context of what you may face in later years. You laugh at how silly, how unimportant these wants were in the grand scheme of life. In seventh grade, I made a red clay heart, inscribed “Greg” into it and hid it under my bed for a month, as instructed by the teen bible, Seventeen magazine. I also swore to help more around the house if my latest crush would just glance my way. Nada. Around 19, those fierce, way-too-expensive silver shoes promised glorious nights on the dance floor. No amount of compromises landed them on my feet. At 30, I so badly needed that job with a world-famous designer. So, I took up meditation and gave up wine. I’m still waiting for that call. Naturally, none of these seemed trivial then; of course, each broke my heart at the time.
 
Now as I struggle with losing Don so unexpectedly four years ago, this new heartbreak is in a league of its own. How I wish to have him pick up his phone, hear his irreverent jokes, comforting words, or well-placed F-bomb. How much I long to sit with him on his porch, gaze out at his garden, especially in spring, with the promise of the season in every brilliant butterfly and vibrant bloom. Have him over for dinner, go out to lunch, share a morning coffee, afternoon tea, or an evening cocktail. See him at the piano, accompanying my son in their weekly duets.
 
The last time my heart was so heavy, my mind so unsettled, was 20 years ago, when I got the news that my child had leukemia. I can’t recall all that I promised then, but I know as I pleaded for my two-year-old’s life, one thing I was willing to give up was years of my own time on earth. I may have to hold up my end of the bargain yet, but who cares? Today, my son is 22, a healthy, six-foot tall outdoor loving, college grad. Every day, I count his cure among my blessings.
 
I also count my friendship with Don among my blessings and I’m working hard to accept that he’s on another journey. I know there is no amount of compromises, no bargaining or promises I can make that will return him to this life. I hope it’s not too much to ask then, for a tempering of the sadness and greater peace of mind.