Someone you love dies once, but you miss them forever

I feel compelled to say something today about my sister Judi. She would have turned 63 years old yesterday, had she not passed away on May 12, 2009.

That's what happens when someone you love very much dies: You remember the date. It sticks with you. You will never be entirely happy on that day ever again.

Yesterday wasn't all that easy, either. I think of Judi a lot, but more so on her birthday, she and my brother-in-law Jess' wedding anniversary, every May 12th, etc.

It's interesting to me that people still post on Judi's Facebook page, usually on one of the above dates. It's not weird or creepy or anything; as a matter of fact, I think it's beautiful. It's a nice tribute to one of the nicest people you would ever in your life like to meet.

More than anything, I think it's therapeutic. When someone to whom you're very close passes away, the one thing you want more than anything else is one last chance to talk with them. Tell them things you should have told them as a matter of course when they were still around. Just 5 minutes. That's all you ask for, just a few minutes to wrap things up, I guess.

In Judi's case, we didn't get that. Her death was sudden, shocking, and life-altering. Just so tough on everyone involved, from Jess to her daughter Jessica to my mom.

Oh, my poor mom. As she herself said at the time, no parent should ever have to experience the death of a child, but she did. And she's still going strong at 83 years old. God bless her.

Anyway, I'm not sure I have much of a point to make today, other than to acknowledge for you that I used to have a sister named Judi and now she's gone. Life goes on, but it's not the same.

It's never the same.