So here I am in Savannah celebrating the New Year with my parents and finding it increasingly hard to breath. Is it the increased humidity, the baby weighing down my lungs, or the fact that Eric’s birthday is, would be, should be tomorrow? I don’t even know how to phrase it.
It’s hard to believe on this beautiful, sunny, warm day that terrible, unexplained things can happen in this world, and yet they do and have.
Tomorrow Eric would have been 34 and a young vigorous man with a beautiful new wife and a promising life ahead of him. Instead we mourn and remember and hopefully celebrate the life that he did get to have.
We bought a bottle of champagne to toast him with and I’m lobbying for popcorn for dinner in his memory.
It’s not enough, but nothing will ever be enough when it comes to this.
Happy birthday, Eric. Just breathe and enjoy your popocorn, Liz.
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