My dear friend Jason Ibrahim died unexpectantly in Febuary at the age of 29.
Today is primary election day. A year ago today I was organizing pollworkers and a victory party at my house for Jason’s bid for Altoona city council. This year is so very different. Jason is with his Maker, and I miss him.
I read a book to his children the other day and wondered, “should I skip the page about Daddy putting them to bed, or read it.” And then I miss him.
I read a new blog post by my dear friend, Elizabeth, Jason’s wife, as she talks about her “crash course class through grief and life as a single mom to three children under the age of four.” And then I miss him.
I come across old campaign literature and signs from last year. I remember those times, some of the most fun times of my life. And I miss him.
I watch an episode of the Walton’s or any quirky old movie. And I miss him.
I watch his oldest daughter laugh; I realize I’m looking at the spitting image of Jason. And I miss him.
I really don’t know how to end this blog post, but to say there’s been lots of missing this year. Lots of tears. Lots of memories coming up when I least expect them. Primary election day wasn’t the first of this barrage of memories, and I know it won’t be the last.
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