Growing older is a privilege
It was just Alison’s birthday.
My sister said something to me once, in reference to Alison, when she turned a major milestone birthday:
Growing older is a privilege, not everyone gets the chance.
I’m getting older with every entry.
Hard to believe I started this blog almost 20 years ago – some people that started reading me 20 years ago are still here, which I’m eternally grateful for.
And some of you met Alison when I met her, suffered with her as I did, and said goodbye to her when I did as well.
I’m definitely eternally grateful for that also. Thank you.
And, selfishly, if nothing else, I made alla you think of her for a second or two today.
That always gives me some comfort because she always wondered if people would forget her.
There’s little chance of that.
Can I tell you a story about Alison?
When I met her early on, we traded dating stories, as I always did with people I started dating.
She told me once that she went with her sister to a blind/speed date thingy and it was packed with very average guys and almost no women.
When the few women that were there saw the pickings, they all left, leaving just Alison and her sister there with dozens of dudes.
But they both stayed because they didn’t want to absolutely crush all the remaining people there.
Me: Well, you coulda just left.
Alison: I couldn’t do that, Logan. You should have seen how sad everyone looked.
Me: So, you stayed there for hours just because you didn’t want to hurt a bunch of strangers’ feelings?
Her: (puzzled) Yeah, Logan.
That was her in a nutshell – always thinking of others. Always.
I didn’t fall for her because I thought she was beautiful – which she was – but because she was so unfailingly kind.
She was such a good person.
The kinda girl you’d wanna start a family with.
Because she was built to love and take care of people.
That’s why it guts me that she’s gone.
The world is so much worse off that someone as good as her is not here and someone as misanthropic as I am, remain.
She was always better at being human than me.
Here’s hoping I can still make the kid as good a human as she was.
Him: (softly) Mommy’s not here so…can I just give this to you? (quieter) I got a flower too.
Me: I love it, thanks!
Him: I’ll still give you something for Father’s Day, papa.
Me: Sweet! You’re the best. I love you like a fat kid loves cake.
I noticed that he didn’t write “Happy Mother’s Day,” in the valentine heart on the card above.
Instead he wrote, “Happy, Happy, Happy” because…well, you know…
So, I took the card on behalf of Alison, gave him a hug and kiss, put him to bed, and waited until I could shower to cry for a little bit.
Like I do every year.
Goodnight and Happy Birthday, Alison.
We miss you terribly.
Location: uptown, with the ABFF, Sara, and the kid, looking at a picture of Alison that showed up on the ABFF’s digital picture frame and thinking she looked happy
Mood: melancholy
Music: the stars, look how they shine for you (Spotify)
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
6 replies on “Alison would have been 47”
You’re right, Logan. I’ve been a quiet reader of your stories for almost 20 years. I’m so sorry for your loss. When my daughter was born, I remember thinking of Alison while she was going through her illness, and how horrible it must have been for you and for your child.
Thank you so much for taking the time to write this comment. It means the world to me that you thought of her and told me about it.
I didn’t know Alison personally, Logan but have been reading your posts since she and Rachie both dealt with the same demon …so about 10 years. Although I never met her, I will never forget her. I prayed and weeped for both of them in the same prayers so often. You speak so eloquently and admiringly about her and my heart breaks for you that you lost her. The world lost such a sweet and caring person-there are not enough of them here. May God bless your precious son, who will always know his mom in some sweet way through all the stories you tell him to keep her alive in his life. I’m sure you will always see the good, kind qualities from Alison in his life…from that sweet interaction and Mother’s Day card, you already are! ❤️🥰
Thanks so much for this lovely comment and for remembering Alison. I’m so glad that Rachel is still here and marvel at how lucky you are to still have her in your life. That’s truly a blessing. All the to you, her, and your entire family, June!
That story about your son giving you the mother’s day present made me cry. He sounds like a great kid.
Thanks so much for this kind comment – he’s a great kid and far better than I deserve. I hope I can do right by him by myself.