Although the time that has passed since Derek's death in September of last year has helped with the sorrow and anger, it has not entirely diminished the emotional impact of his passing.  Today is a perfect example.

Today Derek would be 38.  It's his birthday.

Last year at this time Jenny and I were celebrating his birthday at the hospital.  His condition was quite serious but had started improving — something that was happening constantly (his health, at that point, was a constant roller coaster ride of improvements followed by declines followed by improvements followed by declines; the declines always outmaneuvered the improvements, so it literally was one step forward and two steps back).

As was normally the case, it was looking very promising that Derek would get out of the hospital at this time last year.  That actually happened only two months later on April 30, but it wouldn't last long as his health would fail again and he would be back in the hospital by June.  That was the last time he was out of the hospital as he had begun the final stages of the disease and was starting the decline that would lead to his death on September 7, 2004.

I woke this morning with mixed emotions about the day.  Having celebrated it with him for the last eight years, I'm left with a somewhat empty feeling today, that something is amiss, that something is left undone.

I need him to be here so I can wish him a happy birthday.  I need him to be here so I can once again try to make him feel better.  I need him here so it can be a good day for him.  I need him here so I can tell him how so very much that I miss him.  I need him here so I can know that life isn't a horrible, selfish, evil thing that steals away loved ones and causes much pain and anger and sorrow.

I miss my friend.

I've cried already this morning, something I've not done in many weeks with regards to Derek.  I cried while writing this post.  I will undoubtedly cry again before this day ends.

As I said, he would have been 38.  He was too young to lose the fight, too young to spend so much of his last two years trying to survive a disease that was ravaging his body and eventually his mind.  He was too young to die, too young to sacrifice so much, just too young.

Happy birthday, Derek.  I still miss you.