Oh the Things You Would Do
Tomorrow you would have been 25 years old. A quarter of a century!
Tomorrow you would be attending the wedding of your best friend. You would be shaking your head, like "I don't know man..." This is wedding number four of your closest "bros."
Hayden married first, then Justin, even Chase got married, and now Jake. I think you still would have been the odd man out if you were here. You were the late bloomer of the group. It took you longer to get a handle on this adulting thing. Maybe you would have a steady girl, but it wouldn't surprise me if you were keeping options opened. You had that way about you. You would still be dreaming about all of the things you wanted do and all of the places you wanted go.
If you were here at 25, you'd probably tell me not to be scared to die. You would name all the benefits to being with Jesus instead of being stuck here. I'd say, "Josh, I want to see Nate grow up. I want to see Zachary really let Jesus get a hold of him." You might half-way agree, but you'd also be quick to point out that either one of them could die and there would be nothing I could do about it." Once we had a long talk about someone who died some crazy way, like by lightening on a golf course. I remember you remarked how cool that would be, dying doing something you loved. I hadn't really thought of that in a while, but I guess in a way you did die doing something you loved. You had just been with a tight group of Christian brothers and sisters. You had been engaging and insightful. You died driving your car, which you loved for some crazy reason. That car needed some serious professional help. No grill. Half of the steering wheel was missing where you were replacing your airbag. But you were dedicated to that car. I'm pretty sure by the time you were 25 you would have updated your ride.
If you were here at 25, you'd be supporting your brother through some challenging times. You would think Nate was really a cool kid. I'm sure you smiled when you heard me telling him why he should say, "Tony Danza!" in lei of Jesus Christ's name. He is so impressionable. He knows how much Jesus means to me and has figured out that when he is in trouble he can distract me by saying, "Nae nae, let's say a prayer." You would have been that cool uncle. The one in every family who all of the children admire. If you were here at 25, your Aunt Candy would still be confiding in you. She always felt so loved and accepted by you. She says, "Josh never made me feel judged." That was one of your gifts, you made everyone feel good and welcomed.
If you were here at 25, I have no doubt you would still be very close to Scott and Angie. Who knows, you may have been working for Scott once you finished your degree. I'm sure you aren't surprised to know that Angie still has sticky note you left on her refrigerator. They loved you like a son, but you already knew that.
If you were here at 25, oh the things you would do! How I would love to have you here to give a great big hug and tell you how proud I was to be your mother. On and on and on I could go, recounting each friend and family member you meant so much too. Each one misses you in their own painful way.
Thank you for being present everyday you lived. Thank you for making us laugh. Thank you for making us think and wonder and ask questions. Thank you for accepting us just as we were. Thank you for all of the ways you are still touching us and changing us for the better. One day I will join you and you can show me what the moon looks like from heaven's side. But until then, I'll always have cavitation. That's crazy, right?
If you were here at 25, you'd probably tell me not to be scared to die. You would name all the benefits to being with Jesus instead of being stuck here. I'd say, "Josh, I want to see Nate grow up. I want to see Zachary really let Jesus get a hold of him." You might half-way agree, but you'd also be quick to point out that either one of them could die and there would be nothing I could do about it." Once we had a long talk about someone who died some crazy way, like by lightening on a golf course. I remember you remarked how cool that would be, dying doing something you loved. I hadn't really thought of that in a while, but I guess in a way you did die doing something you loved. You had just been with a tight group of Christian brothers and sisters. You had been engaging and insightful. You died driving your car, which you loved for some crazy reason. That car needed some serious professional help. No grill. Half of the steering wheel was missing where you were replacing your airbag. But you were dedicated to that car. I'm pretty sure by the time you were 25 you would have updated your ride.
If you were here at 25, you'd be supporting your brother through some challenging times. You would think Nate was really a cool kid. I'm sure you smiled when you heard me telling him why he should say, "Tony Danza!" in lei of Jesus Christ's name. He is so impressionable. He knows how much Jesus means to me and has figured out that when he is in trouble he can distract me by saying, "Nae nae, let's say a prayer." You would have been that cool uncle. The one in every family who all of the children admire. If you were here at 25, your Aunt Candy would still be confiding in you. She always felt so loved and accepted by you. She says, "Josh never made me feel judged." That was one of your gifts, you made everyone feel good and welcomed.
If you were here at 25, I have no doubt you would still be very close to Scott and Angie. Who knows, you may have been working for Scott once you finished your degree. I'm sure you aren't surprised to know that Angie still has sticky note you left on her refrigerator. They loved you like a son, but you already knew that.
If you were here at 25, oh the things you would do! How I would love to have you here to give a great big hug and tell you how proud I was to be your mother. On and on and on I could go, recounting each friend and family member you meant so much too. Each one misses you in their own painful way.
Thank you for being present everyday you lived. Thank you for making us laugh. Thank you for making us think and wonder and ask questions. Thank you for accepting us just as we were. Thank you for all of the ways you are still touching us and changing us for the better. One day I will join you and you can show me what the moon looks like from heaven's side. But until then, I'll always have cavitation. That's crazy, right?
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