All in the timing.

Sunday was Alan's birthday.
Would have been Alan's birthday.
So as we did last year, and the years before when he was with us, friends and family who knew him well, ate wings, NYC's finest black and white cookies and drank beer in his honor. Babes who were just in formation while he was with us were there, and they all sampled Twizzlers and Red Vines in his honor(both coasts represented). What many in the extended posse do not know is that he was, despite his East Coast roots, in fact, partial to Red Vines.

Truth.

Lily flitted among the tables, and even though she doesn't do well in confined spaces where activity is limited, she managed to wiggle and mingle and play, and was a beautiful embodiment of her dad's spirit, as was everyone present. Everyone there knew not just Alan's humor, but the specifics of it. And they knew him well in so many ways. They all live admirably in his wake - they savor what he cannot.

He'd be pleased to know that.

Lily didn't know what the day was about and I did not mention the significance of the date to her. But before our get together, just awake from her nap Sunday afternoon, channeling something, - in her sweet, gentle voice said:

"Dada come hooooome."


"Oh Pumpkin. Dada can't come home."

Pause.

"Dada home sooooonnn."

"Oh Lily, Dada loves Lily but he, he can't come."


"Dada other house."

"Oh. Not really. Well. Kind of. Sort of."

I was stuck, and crying, and caught off guard, and felt so defeated.
WE TRIED SO HARD.
I had no answer that seemed right.
Alan not being here isn't right. It just isn't.
Lily then went to her drawer of clothes and pulled out legwarmers she hadn't worn since last year on Alan's birthday and began trying to put them on.

What does it all mean. The coincidence. Where and when the questions fall. Maybe it's a message from Alan to the two of us. A way to make his presence known. I don't know. But I do know I miss him.

We all do.