My baby brother would have been 55 this Friday, February 21. That sounds so strange to me. He has been gone 33 years, Saturday morning at about 2:30 AM.

Thirty-three years sounds strange, too. I don’t think of him everyday anymore, but I know my parents don’t live a single day without thinking of him. I can tell when I call daddy if he’s having a hard day, if Kenny is heavy on his heart that day.

Sometimes, I think of Kenny at odd times. Like, I think I hear him when I’m driving down the road. My eyes well with tears. I struggle to remember his voice. When he died, I remember my mom saying she was afraid she would forget his voice. I thought that was silly then. Now, I don’t.

Fifty-five kind of takes my breath away and grief overwhelms. Unexpected and strange. My mom’s younger sister passed away, and her service is Thursday. Of course, anytime we gather with family, I think of Kenny. Unfortunately, most of the time our extended family gathers is for a funeral. As I have reflected on Aunt Lucille’s life, I’ve been searching through pictures to find some of her, and most of them include that little blond-headed boy that I remember.

Of course, I think of him when I look through family pictures. I often think of him when I’m around mischievous little boys or blond-headed little boys or little boys with dark brown eyes. Even though he was 22 when he left us, I still see him as that little boy.

Grief is a strange thing. Happy birthday in heaven Kenny.

If you want to learn a little more about my brother, please click on this link to one of my blogs from a few years ago. Happy 50th Birthday Baby Brother.