I started to write a whole different post for this week, telling about the things that the Great Hunter and I have been doing this last week…

Going on a hayride…

Attending a Halloween-themed wedding at the historic Lemp Grand Hall in St. Louis…

Going to dinner with the siblings…

Playing Rock and Roll Bingo…

But then I realized what today is. It’s his birthday. A birthday when he gets to save hundreds of dollars each month on medical insurance. 65! A birthday we older people celebrate because it saves us so much money by finally being eligible for Medicare. It’s one of the perks of getting older.

But he’s not celebrating today. Well, maybe he is, but we won’t know it. He’s in heaven where he’s been for the last two and a half years. I’m writing, of course, about my brother. It’s strange. I’ve lost my dad and my mom and my older brother throughout the years, but none of those deaths have affected me quite the same way Steve’s death has. I truly grieve for him almost every day. With the amount of my grief, I can’t imagine my sister-in-law’s grief. I know that these past two years have been very difficult for her. They were always together. She didn’t work outside the home and he often worked from home. They had lunch and dinner together every day. I often joked that they were the “Ozzie and Harriet” of our family as our other brother and I certainly have not had conventional lives.

Several times a year, the six of us; my brother Steve and his wife, the Great Hunter and I and our other brother and his husband, would spend an evening together going to dinner or dinner and a play. We’ve continued doing that after Steve died and we went to dinner together the other night. As we sat down at the table, the server asked “How many will there be?” Without thinking, I automatically said “Six”. Steve’s wife was sitting beside me,  touched me gently on the arm and said “No, five…but it should be six.” She’s so very right. It should be six.

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