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Bob would have been 42 years old today. It's amazing how fast time flies, especially these days, being in my thirties. Everyone my age–and older–comments regularly on how fast time is flying. It's true. I remember just yesterday my brother and I both being "teenagers"— for only a couple of months. I turned 13 in September and he was 19, soon to turn 20 in November 1987.

So this is the third birthday in a row I haven't been able to talk to Bob. I can't wish him a Happy Birthday and send him cds or silly things we can laugh about.

But I'm okay, I guess. I'm still surviving this...

I set aside time this evening to be with him. I toasted a drink to him, talked to him in the dark while observing the few stars I could see after the sun went down. Tonight for dinner I am going to prepare Thai chicken satay because he loved Thai food, as do I.

I talked to my dad tonight. He went fishing early this morning "with Bob" on a deserted Carolina beach and then he said he and mom golfed together in the afternoon. It's been 3 years since their baby boy passed away. Their baby boy who was born in England 42 years ago today, 5:35 p.m. to be exact. That thought hurts me the most– my lovely parents losing their son. But to hear my dad talk about how mom is improving in golf, how he had the entire beach to himself for miles, how he grilled hamburgers for dinner...was wonderful. People CAN survive after loss. It is not easy, but we're enduring the days, even as fast as they are...

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