I Remember You

I worry sometimes that I will forget you. You have the other half of my childhood memories and I know if you were here you would be correcting my version of the story. I miss that. I know one day Justin will want to know about you and I worry that I won’t be able to remember.  Sometimes it’s easy to rejoice that healing but it’s also easy to forget that our life has moved on and you are not in it.

I remember beating up Mikey because he tried to beat you up. I remember punching you in the nose because you were picking on me. I remember playing cowboys and Indians with you and Daniel and you made me be the Indian because “boys didn’t wear makeup.” I remember building a raft and floating down 10 Mile Creek with you and Dan in a thunderstorm. I remember getting chewed out by Uncle Richard for floating down 10 Mile Creek in a thunderstorm.  I remember watching you figure out how to run a food processor without the bowl and I remember staying with Aunt Karen while Mom & Dad rushed you to the emergency room after.  I remember you decapitating my Barbie because she decorated G.I. Joe’s fort.

I remember the sky lights on Fur St and how Mom & Dad taught us about God and how to pray while we looked up at the stars. I remember how you used to make your bed up at night, get completely dressed (shoes and all) and sleep on top of the covers because it would take less time to get ready in the morning. I remember you sleeping on the couch with me all night the night Ben got sick. I remember  that you gave me the chicken pox. I remember you letting me tag along with your friends in high school. I remember your Oldsmobile breaking down at 2 am in “rural” country with no cell phones. I remember know one understood your humor when you wanted to name your cat Schrodinger and your dog Pavlov. I remember your giggle, Josh & Ben sometimes do it and they don’t even know. I remember how smart you were and how underappreciated it was.

I remember a conversation we had late one night at the kitchen table about Jesus. I still think about that conversation with great comfort because I know where you are. I remember your book of inventions. I will remember you when they invent a flying car. I remember your Hypercolor shirt, jean shorts and camo hat that you could not be separated from in jr. high. I remember you convincing Josh that he was adopted and that tapioca was made with maggots. I remember you going 20 mph on Westheimer Parkway in order to see how many cars would pile up behind you. I remember it was about 20.

I remember that you stood me up when we had lunch dates at A&M.  I remember going to the football games with you and being so proud that I could sit with the Corp because of you. I remember your Jr. year midnight yell where that random girl grabbed you and kissed you (this is probably the first mom heard of this). I remember telling you I was going to graduate before you. I remember you standing up in the middle of commencement to wave at me as I got my diploma 15 minutes before you and feeling so proud that you would embarrass yourself to get my attention. I remember you calling me on my last birthday you were here to wish me a happy birthday.

I remember the last day I saw you. I remember pieces of the last conversation we had the day before you left for Iraq. I remember writing to you but you never wrote back. I am still mad at you for that, by the way. I remember the first time I picked up the phone to call you and realized that you weren’t going to answer the phone. I remember turning 25 and hating all the times that I told you I would be older than you one day.

I remember you, but not as clearly as I want to. I want to tell everyone about you because I am so proud of who you became and the things that you did. I really, really miss you. I know you would be embarrassed by all this attention and for that I love you.  You are missed.