42

The answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything in that book of yours I ruined that one summer at the pool.

How old you'd be today if you were still alive.

I've gotten better. I can tell the story of how I got to this job to my clients, can tell them that I helped take care of you while you were sick, talk about how much of a burden people who do what I do now took off of our shoulders, I can do that without tearing up. Most of the time. I never thought I'd be able to do that but it's only taken me 23 months.

Every time an anniversary rolls around, I want to take the day off, hold up in the house, drink. I was going to try to go to your grave, when I thought I was only working Saturday morning until 11 then Sunday starting at 5, but, because of the previously made plans of the people I'd be staying with out there, I wouldn't have enough time to really visit, with them or with you. Work intervened though. At first, I was going to be working from 1:30 til 9 Saturday and Sunday. Then, on my way to work Saturday, the office asked if I could stay overnight. The family of the client I was going to be working with had recently had a sharp decline in ability, which was why I was working there to begin with, to help the family who had previously been able to give the client care by themselves in the evenings. But Friday night had shown them that this client needed round the clock care but they couldn't place her anywhere until Sunday. I'd already worked several hours in the morning with another client and was planning on going back there Sunday morning, so that my co-worker could have a full weekend off. Knowing this, and that Friday night I'd felt so heartbroken over this temporary client's situation that I'd cried on the way home in my car even after a last minute call to TyRoy, I still said yes. How could I not? What had it meant for us to have those skilled nurses and aides there at hospice? When we had reached the end of what we knew how to do for you physically, medically, and we were at the end of what we had for you or ourselves emotionally? At the client's house, I didn't think I'd be able to sleep that night. I can't always sleep in my own bed, much less on someone's else's couch. But I did. Though I worried about how well I was doing the job and how well I'd be able to do the job when called upon in the middle of the night, I had some measure of peace knowing that I'd wake up on your birthday in their house, doing this job that means so much.

I thought that after having been on the clock 23 out of the previous 26 hours, I would crash when I got home, but I wasn't actually very tired. Mom had brought up going grocery shopping after having lunch out, but I wanted to do something else. It was a bright, sunny day, not too cold, so she showed me this trail I'd never been to. Then we went on an hour long drive for her to show me this house that looks quite a bit like I've been talking about building for us whenever I win the lottery except it must not have been on the road she thought it was because we never found it. Mostly we just talked. Not about anything too deep, but we did talk and laugh.

And we drove one of your cars. Out of the four vehicles in our drive, two of them were once yours. There's this new country song about driving a dead loved one's truck. I'd heard the song twice before. The first time, I just listened long enough to see where it was going and then I turned the station. The other time, I just heard the last few lines. Mom heard it yesterday and texted me and the three other people who also own a vehicle that used to be yours to warn them as you have a way of influencing songs on the radio. While Mom and I drove around, I had to change channels twice because that song came on and I really didn't want to break down, but I promised you I would listen to it later.

Eighty-Nine Cents in the ash tray
Half empty bottle of Gatorade rolling in the floorboard
That dirty Braves cap on the dash
Dog tags hangin’ from the rear view
Old Skoal can, and cowboy boots and a Go Army Shirt folded in the back
This thing burns gas like crazy, but that’s alright
People got their ways of coping
Oh, and I’ve got mine

I drive your truck
I roll every window down
And I burn up
Every back road in this town
I find a field, I tear it up
Til all the pain’s a cloud of dust
Yeah, sometimes I drive your truck

I leave that radio playing
That same ole country station where ya left it
Yeah, man I crank it up
And you’d probably punch my arm right now
If you saw this tear rollin’ down on my face
Hey, man I’m tryin’ to be tough
And momma asked me this morning
If I’d been by your grave
But that flag and stone ain’t where I feel you anyway

I drive your truck
I roll every window down
And I burn up
Every back road in this town
I find a field, I tear it up
Til all the pain’s a cloud of dust
Yeah, sometimes I drive your truck

I’ve cussed, I’ve prayed, I’ve said goodbye
Shook my fist and asked God why
These days when I’m missing you this much

I drive your truck
I roll every window down
And I burn up
Every back road in this town
I find a field, I tear it up
Til all the pain’s a cloud of dust
Yeah, sometimes, brother sometimes

I drive your truck
I drive your truck
I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind
I drive your truck


I miss ... well, I was going to say that I miss driving around with you, but I guess I still do that. Then, I was going to say that I miss talking to you while we drove, but I guess I still do that too. So I guess what I really miss is you talking back.

But today is your birthday. So I'm trying to focus on how lucky we were to have you while you were here, how much our life would have lacked without you, and what we've been able to take from the time you were here.

Happy Birthday.