44...

Happy Birthday my brother.

It's funny. I haven't really thought about it until now but your birthday is one of nine birthdays I have always remembered.

Birthdays are like phone numbers.

We don't need to remember phone numbers anymore. You plug em' into your contacts and you press a button when you need it.

It's bullshit.

To this day I remember exactly seven phone numbers.

Five of them don't exist anymore and one of them is my mom's, which used to be mine. So I'm not sure that even counts.

It's kind of a shame it doesn't work that way anymore.

I think the love a person has for their friends and family can be measured in phone numbers and birthdays.

I'm not taking about Facebook reminders and speed dial.

I'm talking about knowing them by heart.

If you knew someone's phone number by heart back then, it meant you needed them.

It meant you kept them close.

It meant you talked with them.

If you knew someone's birthday by heart it meant they were important to you.

A birthday isn't just another day. No matter how much we play it off. Even if it's an odd number birthday or one that's not round.

Even if it's 44.

Without birthdays there would be no people.

Without birthdays there would be no phone numbers.

Without birthdays I wouldn't have met you.

You're gone now. Like one of those damn phone numbers that don't exist anymore and the irony is that I can't for the life of me remember the date that you died.

Maybe Facebook is rotting my brain or maybe it's the stupid speed dial.

But I promise you that just like those phone numbers, I'll always remember you.

Every day. No matter what.

I love you brother.

Happy Birthday.

August 1st, 1970