It has been 5 years since Clay, one of my favorite people in the entire universe, died. For the past 5 years, this world has been just a little bit quieter. A little less creative. There are far fewer hugs (because he knew how to genuinely give them). There aren’t as many drop-by-the-house-at-the-perfect-time-for-dinner guests or hilarious song re-mixes. There are also not as many horribly inappropriate jokes and I never thought I’d say that I actually do miss them.
Not as many gallons of milk are being drunk and there are fewer plates of spaghetti being eaten while watching something either educational or hilarious.
I don’t text anyone anything when I see Bob Saget on TV or when I read a hilarious quote from Jerry Seinfeld in a magazine. There is 1 less guest at the kids’ birthday parties. Because I know he’d try to come to them if he could.
Time heals. Really, it does. I didn’t think it would. I didn’t think I’d be able to get through a day without thinking of him and crying. But I do. I don’t get through a day without thinking of him, but now instead of crying, I usually laugh. I’m usually smiling or singing (because I think of him a LOT when I’m listening to music) or thinking of something happy.
I can close my eyes and smell him — a mix of cigarettes and maybe a little cologne. I can hear his ridiculously goofy laugh. I picture him dressed in layers of a little too-big clothes with a couple necklaces and bracelets. I remember him sitting in class with headphones in, drawing in his notebook. Or outside kicking a hackey sack with Josh and Joey and Tom and Danny and Rob and Brad. I can see him talking to a million different people throughout the day about a million different things and everyone walking away from the conversation feeling like Clay’s best friend. Everyone was Clay’s friend.
And this day sucks and is horrible and awful because it’s the day the world lost one of the greatest, most hilarious, kindest, most patient, smartest and sweetest people. And I think that the only way one can ever really ‘get over’ (but never really get over) something like this is to know that things are okay for him now. He’s okay. And even though it sounds too religious or too out there or too whatever, I know he’s still around in spirit. I know because sometimes he still comes to us in our dreams. And sometimes I’ll catch his smell or hear one of his songs in a perfect moment. And that’s how I know.
xoxo, Connie and John and Jordan. I hope you can feel all my happy thoughts I’m sending your way today. ❤