you were born on this day,
nineteen years ago.
it was friday the 13th.
mom said there was a bat loose in the hospital's hallway.
if i were superstitious,
i would say that was a bad sign of things to come.
but i'm not superstitious.
so it's just funny.
we used to tease you for being born on such a creepy day.
i spent the morning looking at pictures of you.
it is so very strange to see you staring back at me
and looking so very alive.
and every single picture i have to remind myself that you aren't here anymore.
and i wonder when it's going to feel real.
because 6 months seems like a long time for something to settle in
and make itself cozy in my mind.
this is your first birthday without you here.
we wanted to make it special.
so we sort of just celebrated all weekend.
we hiked up to your mountain on saturday.
we all ate breakfast burritos in the parking lot
before we headed up the trail.
cooper carried a rock that says
"in loving memory of porter
'somewhere only we know'"
of course, referring to keane.
we put it at the base of the cliff.
and then at the top we all talked about you.
funny memories and stories.
you were quite the character.
ask for the future played a concert in our backyard.
in your honor.
it was the first time i got to see them play.
it was also the last.
they aren't playing together anymore.
i wish so badly that i had gotten to see you in a show.
but this was almost just as good.
sam squared played your bass.
and i couldn't really look at him without crying.
they are all such nice guys.
you had such genuine people in your life.
probably because you were so genuine yourself.
they wrote a song for you.
and they started it by singing a keane song.
and i hope you got to be here.
oh and we all wrote you love letters on balloons
and sent them up to heaven.
i hope they made it.
i'm really glad we got to stop and remember you again.
because sometimes i think we are just expected to carry on like normal.
and so we do.
only it's a new kind of "normal"
a "normal" where every day feels like something is missing.
but if it were really up to us,
we would celebrate you like this every weekend.
but the neighbors might start to wonder what was wrong with us.
in the words of your friend tyler,
"happy birthday porter. this day is still yours."
this day truly will always be yours.
sometimes i miss you so much it hurts.