Several weeks ago, a teenage boy who lived two houses down from the Kirbarosa was killed in a tragic motorcycle accident. This young man was due to graduate from high school the following week. He was special to our family, in that, when we first moved into our neighborhood, he was my oldest son's first friend. Over the year's we watched as he grew into a handsome young man, who was loved by everyone who knew him.As we attended the funeral service, we were joined by several hundred others who had come that day to pay their final respects to Mike and to give love and condolences to his family. One by one, dozens of people stood to share their memories of Mike. That day everyone in the church laughed and cried as we shared the stories of how he impacted our lives during his brief time here on earth.
As I sat by our pool today, I couldn't help but notice how quiet it was at Mike's house. Over the years, his house and pool were filled with friends who had come over to spend time hanging out with him. But today it was quiet...eerily quiet. I miss him and I know my son does as well.
I wonder why we only get together to share stories about someones life after they die. I thought how cool it would have been to share those stories with Mike while he was alive. I know he would have got a "kick" out of hearing the things his friends and neighbors shared about him.
After we left the church that day, I took both of my son's and hugged them. I told them that I loved them and then I shared some stories about their lives and then I told them again how much I loved them. I called each of my daughter's that evening and told them how much I loved and missed them.
We've always been a close family but I think my heart grew two sizes bigger that day. Once again, I was reminded how precious my family is and fortunate we have been in this life. And today, as I sat by the pool, listening to the sound of silence, I thought to myself how wonderful it would be to once again be hearing the laughter and the noise coming from the yard, two doors down.
We'll leave the light on for you, Mike.
Bill
