I’m on page 10 of Anthony Doerr’s All the Light We Cannot See and I just read a blog post called This is 39 by the amazing Allison Slater Tate. Both of these things made me think of Kenny. Not at all because of their content but, like many things, my thoughts were turned to a life unfulfilled. He was 39 and I continue to mourn not only his death, but also all the things he (we) will not do or see.
He will not walk down the aisle at the end of his wedding with a smokin’ hot new wife. He will not hold a first born child. He will not get revenge on the Lake Placid Ironman course. He will not see peace in Gaza. He will not see Boko Haram, ISIS, and Al Qaeda brought to justice. He will not learn Arabic. He will not buy a house. He will not finally get lasik. He will not turn 40. He will never see the Grand Canyon or Mount Rushmore or the Great Pyramids.
But, oh what he did see and do. He traveled Europe. He played his tootles in France. He finished Ironman, four times. He read so many books. He made thousands of people laugh. He inspired children and adults. He watched his Dad kick cancer’s a**. He became #7 in his Mom’s second grade classroom. He went to college and grad school and loved playing the clarinet even when he hated it. He loved his sister with a ferocity beyond measure. He was a patriot. And he tried on a wedding ring and it made him that much more handsome.
And, he will see so much more. For if we truly believe in the promise of the resurrection, we know how he is spending his days. Listening to Nana’s stories. Playing fetch with Parker and Juddy. Talking war stuff with lots of people include Murph and Erik. Cracking wise with Robin Williams. And playing duets with Gigliotti and Mozart. And he gets to do all of this free of pain, anxiety, fear of the future, and full of love. And this, for a least a moment, gives me peace.