The letter K will always, and only, mean Kevin to me.
He was born on my 6th birthday, 28 December 1970. He died of cancer on 23 May 2010. He was always my friend, even when we were fighting or not on speaking terms. No, more than that: he was my brother, from a different mother. And there isn’t a day that goes by since his death that I don’t miss him.
This was the first picture I took with my then-new iPhone, 23 February 2006.
We talked a guy who worked at Nordstroms to take this picture of us.
We took this picture together, in Seattle, 4 October 2009.
He was the best friend, and my life is a little sadder for his loss. I know I’m not the only one who misses him, but I’m one of the few who knew him from the day he was born.
His being gone is almost, almost, enough to make me pretend there’s a Heaven. Sadly, there isn’t, no matter how much I’d like it to be so.
