I woke up at 4 a.m. this morning. It's not that I wasn't tired from the weekend, or yesterday in particular. Oh I was. And I got 5.5 hours of good, deep sleep. And it's not like I don't have to get up in the night...the older I get...am I right, fellas?
It was 4 a.m. 13 years ago that my phone rang.
Jimmy was gone.
There's something about the echoes of spiritual circadian rhythms from traumatic moments. It's not a conscious choice to be aware, although one surely could be intentional about them. No, there's something in us calling us to remember what was or what happened.
So while there's something about him I remember any day, everyday, today I bring my attention to his life and energy. And I'm glad.
With all the family together yesterday sitting outside on a beautiful Easter afternoon, one of my children who has a penchant for hyperbole drew a reminiscent comment from several of us - "Hello, Jimmy!"
Love you, brother.