THIS May

It's May 1st, 2016. Last year around this time, I was filled with anxious and mixed emotions. May meant my third and final graduation. May meant being ordained - my lifelong dream. May meant adjusting to life after TCU. May meant youth Sunday & senior Sunday. But looming over all of that, May meant 'celebrating' your birthday without you. I use the term 'celebrating' very loosely because I spent almost all of that day (and the days leading up to it, and the days following it) in tears at any given moment. I wasn't sure what that day would bring and truth be told, I didn't want to know. But this year, this year I hope will be different. For the other 364 days (or 365 for this year), I grieve the loss of your life. But this year, this year for that one day, I want to remember what it's like to celebrate your birthday and celebrate your life.

May 20th is on a Friday. Unfortunately I won't be home for your actual birthday, but I will be home the weekend before for Mat's graduation. On May 20th, I will make it a point to smile instead of crying all day (not that I did that last year cough cough) and when people ask why I'm smiling so much, I'll tell them it's because I'm celebrating Philip's birthday! "Who's Philip?" they'll ask. "WELL...." I'll begin, "How much time do you have? A lot? Good." 

"Philip is my baby cousin! He was born when I was 4 years, 4 months, and 4 days old. For the first 15 and a half years of his life he annoyed the crap out of me but around 16, he really hit his stride. Sure he annoyed me then too, but what else are younger cousins for? I could tell you that I loved him every second of his life, and while I'm sure that's true on some level, there was a part of me that couldn't stand that freckle faced kid for a good few years of his life... We call those "his middle school years." See, Philip was one of the cool kids and I was not. He often said he wondered what it would be like if we had been the same age and gone to school together. "Not good Phil," I'd tell him, "not good." "But you're cool! We'd have been friends." "No Phil, you think I'm cool because I'm older than you and have a car." "Yeah, actually, that's true..." Secretly I wished we had been closer in age and gone to school together. Maybe it would have upped my cool points to have been known as his cousin. But then again, I loved being the older, wiser cousin. There were many times when I would spend the day with Philip and think "OH MY GOSH I'M NEVER HAVING CHILDREN." Or, "Do I really want to be a youth minister and work with kids like Philip!?" Eventually he grew out of that stage and no longer made me want to rip those freckles off his face one by one. But you know what? I'm glad we were close enough that he could annoy me. I'm glad we were close enough that I could drive him where ever he needed (Skate City usually cough cough). I'm glad that I watched him grow from the adorable baby phase, to the playful child phase, to the obnoxious preteen phase, to the slightly more obnoxious teenager phase, to the less obnoxious and dare I say slightly mature older teenager, and finally to the honorable and lovable adult that so many of us knew and loved. Love. Not loved. We'll never stop loving that kid."

I have so much to say about you and I love to tell your story. I hope that this year I can celebrate instead of crying so much. I can't wait to see you when I come home in a few weeks and to get you caught up on everything. You're my favorite little cousin and over the next 20 days I hope to share some of those moments that made me laugh, want to rip my hair out, want to rip YOUR hair out, smile, and even shed a few tears along the way. After all, you're worth celebrating and if there was one thing you were good at, it's celebrating. I love you baby cous (most of the time at least).