Happy Birthday Bobby

Today Bobby would have been 27.

It's hard to believe that this November marks the 5th year of his death.

Visiting his grave is always an emotional trip that I prefer to take alone. Vivid memories rush through my brain evoking regressed sadness and heartache pent up over the years; memories of his smile, his laugh, his tender heart, his incredibly loud singing. I remember what an amazing uncle he was, and how he was my closest brother. I remember how he was so excited when Coleton was born, and how big his smile was when he held him for the first time. I remember his "dropping in" just to chat, often offering to watch the kids. I remember how much they adored him and his goofy personality...playing with them so wildly in a way that only an uncle could get away with. I remember him balancing Coleton in the air with one hand, and then laughing as I freaked out. He always knew his limits...he knew when he was in control. I remember the day that he announced his decision to become a Marine and how I didn't take him seriously. I remember our last Christmas together.

I remember how proud of him we all were when we watched him pin his Globe and Anchor emblem on his hat as he graduated boot camp. I remember watching him run his last drill as family and friends alike watched...their boys now men. He was so drained...so beaten down...so emotional...yet so proud that he had finally made it to the end. He was now a member of the USMC...proud to call himself a Marine. And so were we.

I remember breakfast that morning and his visit home after his graduation, and how he literally gained 20 pounds in 2 weeks. ~ If you knew him, you would understand how that is possible!~ I remember his calls and letters, sometimes calling very late at night or very early in the morning, not remembering even after 16 months that there was a 16 hour time difference in Japan. I remember him telling me what fun he was having driving a Hummer through the town, how he was trying to take college classes, and how homesick he was. I remember how time seemed to drag when his leave from Japan was postponed time and time again because of 9/11. I remember how happy we were to see him when he finally came home for 3 weeks before leaving again, and how hard it was to say goodbye.

And sadly, I remember the morning that the USMC called me and asked how to get a hold of my dad, deliberately vague of their mission. I remember waiting and worrying all day, no knowing if one of my brothers were hurt, sick, or missing. I remember my mom calling me after her visit with the Marshalls, hearing her tell me that Bobby had died. I remember feeling numb, not believing what I heard. I remember crying for days. I remember the next week as a blur, thinking that at any moment Bobby would call us and say "Psych!" I remember the funeral, looking at Bobby for the last time. I didn't want to believe, I couldn't believe that he was dead. I remember my dad's eulogy when he said, "It saddens me that no woman will ever call him Husband and no child will call him Dad." I remember the rain, and how heavy the air was that day.

When I visit Bobby now I still cry. I cry for selfish reasons because I know he is with Heavenly Father and happy. I cry because my kids can't remember what an amazing person he was. I cry because Jadyn never met him. I cry because I wish he were here. I cry because he was so young. I cry because he's not in my life anymore. I cry because I miss him. I miss his laugh. I miss his smile. I miss my brother. I know he hears me, and I talk to him often. I know that one day I will see him again and I can throw my arms around him and tell him how much I love him. Until that day comes, I will visit his grave and talk to him...I'll keep him up to date with my life. I'll keep his memories alive and remind my kids what an amazing uncle he was and what he meant to me.

Happy Birthday Bobby. I love you.