Dates, Numbers, and Invisible People

Today is my brother Dan’s birthday. He was born February 2, 1954. He would have been 67. He died of ALS on November 4, 2006, when he was 52. Fifty-two. A few days ago, January 27, was the anniversary of my dad’s death in 2017. He was just days away from turning 88. His birthday is February 18, 1929. My mom was born on March 15, 1932. She died April 14, 2017, when she was 85.

I made a Google calendar for family & friends’ birthdays and anniversaries. At first, it was just birthdays and wedding anniversaries. Now it also includes death anniversaries. I guess that’s what you call them?

As I was thinking about Dan, Dad, and Mom today, and crying a bit, it struck me that any given day is meaningful to someone for some reason. As we grow older, more and more dates are anniversaries of sad things, of loved ones who have passed away, or other sorrowful commemorations. Once my sister remarked that she kept seeing friends’ names in wedding announcements and my dad said, “Wait ‘til you start seeing them in obituaries.” It’s happening.

I was crying as I drove to the grocery store this morning. Then I parked and went in. As I cheerfully conversed with the checkout clerks, other store workers, and customers, they had no idea how sad I felt, or why. They couldn’t see the faces of my brother, dad, and mom that I saw. They didn’t know those invisible beings were walking beside me.

In the Jesuit prayer called the Examen, you review your day, “looking for times when God has been present and times when you have left him out” (David L. Fleming, SJ, “Reflection and Our Active Lives”). When I pray the Examen, most of it is remembering my interactions with people. What invisible people were walking with each of those I met? God, for one. Who else? What friends or loved ones are they picturing? What words of love or criticism or anger are replaying in their minds? What memories do this date, this moment, this activity evoke?

It’s not just February 2, 2021. It’s the day 67 years ago that my now-dead-from-ALS-brother Dan was born. A few days ago it wasn’t just January 27, 2021. It was the day 4 years ago that my almost-88-year-old dad died. All these dates and numbers. I’m bad at dates and numbers. I hope I did the math right in this piece.

I miss the invisible people in my heart and mind. And I love them.