Mark should be here

Holidays depress the living hell out of me these days.

Take Labor Day, that is today, for example. Last year, and for years before, my immediate family hereabouts, myself my mother and my brother Mark, would all get together at Mark’s place. Mark would barbecue (Mark was a genius at the grill, and no slouch at the stove either) and we’d all have a damn good meal. And a damn good time together. Not much of a celebration I grant you, but it was always something I looked forward to. Memorial Day was the same; Christmas, New Year and Easter were much the same but without the outdoor cookery. Birthdays were something special as well.

My brother Mark died last January. His funeral was on the day before my birthday. I didn’t feel very much like celebrating.

Easter came and went with me having health issues again, and I wasn’t even sure I’d be out of the hospital for it, much less be able to make a proper holiday dinner, even if it would have been just for two of us. On Memorial Day I grilled some burgers, but I’m not the cook Mark was and I could never do a meal that would do his memory justice. Mark's birthday came and went, and the pain of not trying to afford a proper gift (I have always loved the gift-giving) was all I could manage.

Now it’s Labor Day; I’ve got a couple of steaks and some potatoes and I’m going to try to come up with a worth while dinner, but it won’t be the same. Holidays were always a time I spent with my brother, and I can’t shake the awful empty feeling I get when ever I think of him. And on a holiday, I can’t not think of him.

I know that this is a horribly self-indulgent piece of drivel, that no one besides me really cares about any of this. To hell with it. This is my blog and I’m feeling self-indulgent today.

Happy Labor Day, Bro. I love you and I miss you terribly.

The Blues Viking

Mark William Rosecrans 1960-2008