McGregor The Pier Builder

Brennan,

There was mass held in your honor this morning.  We did not go.  I'm sorry if you are disappointed in that but a part of me knows you understand.

I could have pushed Darren to go, arranged for someone to watch the boys so he could go to be there.  But I chose to step aside and let him decide for himself.  I've learned that's what works best.

I can't speak for Darren but it's obvious to me how much he hurts.  He will for the rest of his life.  He told me he makes the choice to not feel down because in the grand scheme of things he could easily say how much his life has really sucked. The unfairness beginning at the age of 3 when he wasn't given a choice in growing up without a father.  He grew up instead with stories from his Aunts and Uncles that he weaved together to make up a life.  It doesn't quite come close.  His anger and sadness towards this unfairness is just a part of him now, woven in and between and around everything that makes him, him.  Growing up, you were the closest to him.  You were his person.  You left me with shoes I can never fill. 

You were the narrator of sorts, of his story.  I think he feels he is alone in the sense that his story has quieted now for there's no one to share his life with.  He knows he has me but I am not you. 

I am sad because our boys will only know you from the stories they will weave together to make up a life.  It won't quite come close but I know Darren will do his best, eventually, when the pain lessens more with time, he will do his best to share your life with his sons.  They will not remember your face, your hugs or your laugh but I think Darren will make sure that they remember who you were and how you could make their Daddy laugh.

I miss hearing Darren on the phone with you.  He never laughs the same with anyone else.  When he would talk with you I could hear his laughter through out our entire house.  He also spoke so much louder with you too. You were the only one he ever really wanted to pick up the phone for.  You were the lucky one.

I miss the way Darren would talk about you.  He was proud of you for your constant determination to make something of your life.  He hurt for you and still does when it comes to your daughter.  He is afraid she will never know who her Daddy really was.  I hope someday Darren gets to talk to her about you and the choices you made with her in mind.  I hope someday somebody at least tries.

Today, Darren would have tried to call you, most likely leaving a raunchy message of some sort instead. 

He drank a beer in honor of you last night.  He cried.

We miss you. 

If you can, please wrap your arms around your mother today.  She needs it the most but you already know that.

Some how.  Some way.  I know you talk to us. 
Some how.  Some way.  I hope we're listening. 

Happy Birthday Brennan,

Where ever you are.

An old timer is talking to a young man in a bar in Scotland.

"Laddy, look oot there ta the field. Do ya see that fence? Look how well it's built. I built that fence stone by stone with me own two hands. Piled it for months. But do they call me McGregor-the-Fence-Builder? Nooo..."

Then the old man gestures at the bar. "Look here at the bar. Do ya see how smooth and just it is? I planed that surface down by me own achin' back. I carved that wood with me own hard labour, for eight days. But do they call me McGregor-the-Bar-builder? Nooo..."

Then he points out the window. "Eh, Laddy, look out to sea. Do ya see that pier that stretches out as far as the eye can see? I built that pier with the sweat off me back. I nailed it board by board. But do they call me McGregor-the-Pier-Builder? Nooo..."

He looks around nervously and mutters under his breath, "But ya screw one lousy sheep... "

{insert Brennan's laughter here}