Today, December 5, 2013, marked the second year since the death of my brother-in-law, Seann Flynn. I wish there was something profound I could say on this very sad anniversary, but there's nothing profound about the death of a young man. This beautiful person was in our lives a brief time, but long enough to touch our hearts, change our minds and give us comfort.
I will always be grateful for the long conversations Seann and I had about music, film and sports. I will recall with fondness how he accepted me as a brother, how he always had an open heart for his nieces and nephews, how he loved his family so - especially his mother and father, how he wanted to protect his older sisters, and how he worked so hard to become an enlightened human being.
I can hear his voice right now, his half smirked "Yo." I can envision his outstretched on our living room chair, sleeping while some lame TV sitcom plays in the background. I can see feel his presence in our home and in my heart.
This morning Julie and I drove down to the Santa Monica Pier to see the bench that bears his name in memory of him. It faces the ocean and rests right next to Muscle Beach, one of his favorite hang outs. Julie brought an ornament to hang. It read "Little Angel." Before we left, an older couple asked if they could sit on the bench. We, of course, let them. Julie explained who Seann was and that this was our first time visiting the area. The woman, who spoke with an Eastern European accent, said that she felt that he would be happy that we were there and that he would smile at the sight of the little wooden ornament. "God bless," she said, and we left to drive home.
Oh how I wish I could lift the shadow of grief from the hearts of my loved ones. But how can I lift the shadow when I can't shake it myself?
We miss Seann. We love you.
We were blessed.
We were blessed.