Today I will be doing the same thing I do every October 21st; I will call my baby sister Marianne and wish her a Happy Birthday, just as I did on October 21st, 1996.
We grew up in a rural part of a small town in a small state on a small street where most of the families had small children in pretty much the same age group. So it wasn't unusual that my friends had siblings who were friends with my siblings. Such was the case with the Celli family, where John was my best friend and Lynette was (and still is) Marianne's.
What I'll never forget about calling Marianne this day 13 years ago was that she happened to mention that Lynette had told her that John would shortly be leaving for Saudi Arabia. For years John and I had kept in touch by exchanging letters, and with his birthday being on October 23rd, there was a birthday card on its way to him from me.
But he was leaving for the Middle East, and the card I had sent wouldn't make it to him in time. So for some reason I decided to call his mom to get his phone number (this was when it was unbelievably expensive to make overseas phone calls), and for the first time in years I phoned him so that I could wish him a Happy Birthday before he embarked on his trip.
His fiancé, whom I had read about in John's letters but never met, answered. I told her who was calling, and her response still resounds in my head as clear as a bell, "Judie-judie?!" Excited she gave the phone to John, and I remember how happy I was to talk to him, and how happy he sounded talking to me. It was just a number of hours before he would be leaving for the airport.
Three weeks later, my best friend was killed in a car accident. A few days after his death, I received one last post card from him in the mail.
On Friday he would have turned 40. I think often about this chain of events and what a coincidence it was that I had called him and got to talk to him that one last time. It comforts me immensely, in the same way I felt comforted while standing by his grave the day after his funeral, and I literally felt his invisible embrace while the tears poured down my cheeks.
"I still miss him insanely," I think with fresh tears running down my cheeks. I will never forget him and what he means to me. I love you, John.
The picture I have kindly been allowed to publish was taken by Jeanette Lebedies-Nord
Sitting here crying realizing I lost a brother, but you lost your best friend. I think of all the years we could have had...the nieces and nephews I would have had...and the incredible brother who gave his life for our freedom. What a stand up kind of man he was and will be for all of us who ever had a chance to know him.
ReplyDeleteWhere life would have taken him is anyone's guess. My guess is that he would have already been Senator Celli.
He led his life by example. He gave all he had, all the time. It is sad to know how much he could have done given a little more time on this earth.
Perhaps he has an even more powerful job now watching over all of us who he loved more than life itself.