Happy Birthday to a Ghost

Have you ever said happy birthday to a ghost?

Memory Lane has a hit a road block.  Let's call it time.  Today was your day, now it's mine.  I used to talk to you.  Now, I talk at you.  Conversations with a mime.

Wake up, guilt sets in.  It's not because of what happened.  Or didn't happen.  I'm merely sorry for all those things I am forgetting.  Like those road trips.  Our little talks.  Sobriety.  Conversations during future walks.  I suppose, you're still an uncle.  And still my friend.  I suppose, one year from now, I'll be back here again.  Without a cake.  Without your stories.  Of all your hopes drowning in your past glories.  Despite the irony, here's a toast.  Happy Birthday to a ghost.

I can forgive cancer.  I can forgive God.  I can't forgive you.

Let it go, they said.  Try walking with this supposition.  Oh, I know.  I'm the one talking at an apparition.  I'm alright.  All is good.  Nothing could be better nor more misunderstood.  A dose of venom in my blasphemy, never mind.  Sooner or later, we're all out of time.  Speaking metaphorically, here's a toast.  Happy Birthday to a ghost. 

Do you really believe in the other side?  Is it possible it's something we created as a coping mechanism?  Like some self serving dose of optimism. 

Conversations with a ghost always lead to skepticism. 

But yes, I do believe.

I can forgive unintended consequences and all our failed interventions.  But I can't forgive you.

Not today. 

Despite my righteous indignation, here's a toast.
Happy Birthday to a ghost.