Eric's Garage.

My last memory of my cousin Eric was his laugh, as he sat on my dad's lap in the tiny Toledo airport shortly after New Year's 1994. The next time we'd fly through there would be for his funeral in April, then again in June for my dad's service. He is celebrating yet another birthday in heaven today.

When he was just a baby, I got to "watch" him as the family gathered downstairs. I would prop him in my bean bag until he would fuss- the pick him up because clearly he needed me. A few years later, when they visited us in Denver, we were family but almost strangers- no longer being able to see each other weekly or for birthdays- but sometimes through videos sent back and forth and pictures. He had a broviac for chemo and while they were there- I was the only one he would let clean it. He was such a wonderful little butthead. It meant a lot to me.

Of course I wonder what he would have accomplished had cancer not taken him. I know for sure how much we all were changed for even having him for those brief years. I had already gotten accustomed to the distance since we had moved, but for my cousins- the much wider gap left for them would never be filled. Pirate ships, nachos, crazy pranks. Goonies Never Say Die.

Bella has been on a burrito/taco/nachos binge. I think of Eric a lot. I worry about my family. Despite the years, you learn to move around the grief. It is always there.  I also remember Phillip's brief stay in the hospital as Pancreas Boy and promises of Nachos to get him through the week of feeding tube while his pancreas rested. A simple, common thing like nachos- something you wouldn't think could completely wrench your heartstrings. Sharing a beer with my dad during Monday Night Football, stealing his olives from his martinis. Soon he would put an entire swizzle stick full in his glass, just for me.

So of course the other night, in the midst of running back and forth- the garage refused to close. It's old, it gets overheated and just refuses. At first I would get frustrated and angry, now I'm just plain sympathetic. Phil texted he was on his way home, so I sat outside in the breeze and waited- surely it would close on the first try for him.

 The messages went like this:

 I of course had to text my aunt and cousin- that autocorrect named our garage Eric. My aunt reminded me his birthday was in a couple days. I knew it was in February- but honestly I'm terrible with dates. She also reminded me about the time Eric got his mittens stuck in the garage- hoisting him like a pirate ship jolly roger. So I got out my label maker and made a sign for our sign.

and believe it or not, we were out of margaritas, no rum to be found- so I soaked some olives in vodka and toasted Eric and birthdays and signs and of course to naming Eric's Garage- which has been working since- we'll see what today holds- Eric loved a good prank. Happy Birthday Butthead.