Today is February 4th. Today is also Diggy’s birthday. For those of you who don’t know, Diggy came into my life when I was five years old and left it when I was forty-four. He would have been forty-nine today if he had stayed around, but apparently he had somewhere else to be. I’m pretty sure he’s fishing with his Grandpa Mike on some days, and on others he’s probably busy haunting people. Or maybe he’s part of the welcoming committee for the likes of David Bowie and Glenn Frey. Or maybe…oh, I can’t even imagine, or maybe I imagine too much.
I’m a bona fide member of the Dead Sibling Club, and I know I’m in good, albeit sad, company. If you don’t belong to the club you might be in even better company because you still have all of your siblings. If you do belong, you totally get the heart-breaking entrance requirements.
Happy Birthday, Diggy. You live on in so many ways, and yet we miss seeing you. We toast you at occasions and write dumb blog posts with you as the star. No words can bring you back, no wishing with all of my might can either. But even though I can’t see you you’re still a part of my life. Without you I would have been a completely different person. Without me you would have had to put up with way less crap. What are big sisters for?
I don’t know whether to wish Diggy “Rest In Peace” or “Forge On,” but I’m leaning toward the latter. Forge on, Diggy, and spread your Diggy-ness wherever you are. Say “hi” to Grandpa Mike for me on your next fishing trip.
Me & Diggy, circa 1968
Auntie B's Wax 