Pfc Shane M. Reifert

Pfc Shane M. Reifert
Shane during a sweep of the Shuryak Valley, approximately 3 weeks before he was killed. Photo Credit: PFC Sean Stromback

Friday, December 24, 2010

Last Christmas Eve

Well, Buddy, it's going to be a rough next 48 hours. I've been awake for a little bit, just laying in bed, thinking about last year and trying to remember a time line of events for everything that happened exactly a year ago today. And I just don't remember. We went to Aunt Lori's house for dinner, I remember that. But I don't remember what we did all day on Christmas Eve. I'm assuming that we were at Mom and Dad's. That maybe you and Dad ate summer sausage sandwiches for lunch. That we played with Lola. We probably watched some bad TV. You probably were online for awhile. But that's all I can remember, and those memories are just vague assumptions of what we might have done. I don't remember specific conversations. 

What I do remember is being really happy on Christmas Eve at our aunt and uncle's. I remember playing Beatles Rock Band with our cousins. I remember singing and it being horrible. Looking over at you and laughing because it was so bad but everyone was having a good time so it didn't matter. Calling you "special boy." Playing ping pong. Laughing some more. Hugging everyone. I remember wearing gold snakeskin Mary Jane shoes that pinched my feet. I remember driving back toward Detroit. Trying to find a Taco Bell that was opened. Stopping at over half a dozen Taco Bells, only to discover that all of them were closed. Me being so mad at myself because I couldn't find you the one thing that you wanted at the moment. Calling A and asking her if she knew where an open Taco Bell might be. Her telling us that Dearborn was our logical best bet. Meeting her at the Dearborn Taco Bell. That one being closed, too. Realizing it must be a corporate decision to close all Taco Bells on Christmas Eve. Going to Ram's Horn in Dearborn, but not the Bellagio one. You and I both having Buffalo Chicken Caesar Salads. A having a garden salad with ranch and all of us sharing french fries. Having a perfect meal, even though it wasn't the Taco Bell that you wanted. Me being really happy that you finally met A, when you usually never agreed to meet my friends. Making you and A take a picture with me in the Ram's Horn, even though you both are funny about having your pictures taken, and both of you appeasing me. The busboy who took the photo being slightly annoyed at my request. 

And Buddy, I can't remember anything else after we took that picture. I know we would have gotten into our respective cars and A would've driven us to the expressway since we had driven around Dearborn and didn't know where we really were because it was night. I'm sure we listened to music in the car. I'm sure we probably talked for a while when we got home, or maybe watched a movie. But I can't remember. 

That's how all of my memories about you are getting. Holey. I remember bits and pieces when I want to remember entire days, entire conversations. Maybe it's because I didn't realize that those were going to be some of my "lasts" with you. That was our last Christmas Eve. We were really friends, Buddy. We were. And last Christmas Eve really reminds me of that. I know not everyone could be with a sibling for that long and just get along and not fight and have actual things to talk about. We listened to an old R. Kelly song when we were driving through Detroit and both laughed about it but mostly liked that we were listening to it. Thank you for all of my memories with you, Buddy. Thank you for letting me have a picture with you that night. I miss you so much that it physically hurts. I never knew that I loved you so much until you were gone. And I don't know I'm capable of ever loving anyone more than I love you.

No comments:

Post a Comment