Happy birthday — or as we used to say to each other — Happy Happy Joy Joy!
Another birthday and you’re not here. So much is going on on the political front, you should be here to see it.
There have been many time in recent days, I think about calling you, but I don’t know the number where you are. I still have a copy of your outgoing message. Even though I very accurately remember your voice, I still play the message once in a while, just to hear you talk for a few seconds.
I got a call from the treasury office and they gave me good news and bad news.
First, the good news: she kept saying “checks.” That means it’s not clothes! HALLELUJAH, BABY!!!! No dealing with bodily fluids of a beloved, long-dead brother.
The bad news: After almost 11 years, Dan’s estate is still technically open! The creditors have all settled accounts and would have done so within a year of the probate, but the final paperwork was never filed.
2017 sucked … and not well. Let’s forget the whole politics/Republican jackasses in Congress/racism/tax cut for the wealthy/Trump vs. women, immigrants, Constitution, etc., etc., but pro-Russia/ad nauseum disaster portions of the year.
Every year that passes, I feel like I lose more of you. This year I lost two major pieces of you, but in an odd way, I gained a piece, too.
For the past week, every other night or so, I have dream installments. They involve Dan and he’s not dead. He just decided he didn’t care for the way his life was going and he wanted a clean break. A new start.
The first dream was one of those that happens when you’re just becoming conscious, but essentially still asleep.