Friday, April 10, 2009
It's been two years Good Friday since I joined my sister-in-law in deciding to unleash David from the machines that were keeping him "alive." I can't remember any more the names of the machines or their functions, except the kidney machine.
We've made it such a point to live life since then that the time seems somehow longer. Yet I miss him as much as ever and find myself thinking to tell him some random idea.
I haven't looked at the DVD a friend of his made for his memorial service since the day we played it over and over. a lovely party he would have enjoyed so much. But I know which pictures are on it and they are all like this one here. From beginning to end, at every holiday, there was a picture of us together. This one was from the last Thanksgiving. The last one. I might wish I wasn't so obviously fat, but I still love it because it's real.
We decided on Good Friday. Told my mother on Holy Saturday and let him go on Easter. The Knuckle always did think he was the second coming. who knows...
Posted by Sending Pages Out to Dry at 1:14 PM