I didn't need a reminder this morning, but it popped up in a couple of on-line places anyway. That's the thing about losing people you love. There will always be dates, times, and memories that are woven into the fabric of your own life that just don't quite escape. They are always on your road.
Even though my Nannie has been gone since 1980, I still hold her close in my heart. Every April 22 her presence is particularly strong...the day of her birth. I have worn her wedding ring ever since she passed.
Today is the day of my friend Vann's birth. I struggled with birthday this morning. It is his birthday...it was his birthday...but, it will always be the date of his birth. It helped me to think of it that way.
I have three tangible things from Vann that I can actually hold in my hands: a cap from the debris removal company he worked for in New Orleans after Katrina and two rugs handwoven by the Amish in Missouri. The cap and one rug are at the Chatette in France. The other rug is here with me and rests at the foot of my bed.
Christmas of 2007, I came straight from France to spend the holidays in St. Louis without going to New Orleans at all. On his way home to North Carolina from a worksite near Moberly, MO.; Vann stopped in at my parents. It was a brief visit. I can still see him sitting in my Mom's chair visiting with my Dad, and then walking back to his monster white truck with him to say good by and watch him go. He teased: "How did two such normal people have a daughter like you?" We laughed. I punched him in the arm. But as I've said before, Vann and I were very different people.
Even though that was the last time I saw Vann, we stayed in touch by phone up until December of last year. The rugs were his Christmas gifts...one for me and one for my parents. Mom and Dad gave me theirs and mine went to France.
I guess you could say that Vann is "under foot" literally and figuratively, but that's a good thing. Here's to a Sunday of memories, magic and holding someone close that I will always love.
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