“Come on.” Patience isn’t a word most four-year-old know. The little girl, no small toddler now, is pulling on her daddy’s green, slightly faded shirt. It’s not worn that much, which is good because it will be a damn shame if it ever gets holes in it. Some things you can never throw out. Not because you like them so much, but because they hold a connection to something which will never come back.
The quiet waves made gentle splashes on the rocks. The blades of grass, a more vivid shade of green, swayed quietly in the little breeze. Late September is still summer here in Tokyo. The park, a tiny outcrop of stillness in a busy bay.
The children run, excited to be here in a place which holds something which they will never know. Memories of a brave fighter of a distant past.
They want to play, but their daddy lingers in the thoughts of another time he wore that shirt. It was new then. Memories, like shirts, fade but the photos don’t. A snapshot of something else new hugged gently to that soft polo.
“Come on Daddy!” A little irritation now. The world belongs to the living and not to the past.
We honor the memories, not because we cannot move beyond but to remind us to hug the ones we still have.
Little one. Rest tonight and each night. You never knew your friends here, but there are some who still remember. They will wish you a happy birthday.
He IS one Published or not, he is.
Thanks for sharing all you do, TokyoBayer. Happy birthday to the wee one, and…what does one say to another who has survived when some did not? No one knows. Maybe the wind? I hope it carries a tune for you, today.
Many warm thoughts for your family, TokyoBayer. For your *whole *family, wherever they may be dreaming tonight. We remember him here - how can we forget?
Tokyo - I knew of your son’s story, but until today I did not know his name. My Ian is ten weeks old, named for an uncle who died nearly two decades ago at the age of six. That you for the reminder that whatever time we get, it is a blessing, and I wish you peace today.
Fuck you, you arrogant bully. I will gladly take a warning just to tell you off over this. You are a complete asshole, and I hope you learn what suffering is.
A year ago you said “Gradually, I’m realizing that hold on too tight to Ian doesn’t help our family now” and I asked “have you thought that there is a time in the future where you won’t be having birthday parties for your lost son?” While I have all the sympathy in the world for what you went through and lost, I really think it’d do you good to find some end to the mourning.
Such beautiful words to honor your child. This probably wont mean much, but this doper is thinking about you and your family and wishing you peace and comfort. You are a wonderful daddy.
Today is my daughter Maya’s nine month birthday. I am blessed to have her and hug her and love her (and also my other child). Apart from being a happy day, the 19th of each month is also a reminder about the 21st being around the corner. The day after tomorrow marks the six month anniversary of my husband Jesse’s death.
Your words are a solemn reminder of how fragile we can be sometimes…and how fragile life can be.
Published or not, he is.