I grew up in a very closely-knit neighborhood in small town America. All the kids played together, no matter what the age. We looked after each other. Kept watch over the littler ones. Climbed the big old pine trees, right up to the very top, where we could see for miles. Played tag and hide-and-go-seek. Had neighborhood baseball games. Played marbles and jacks. Ran through the woods. Had picnics in those same woods. Played outside all day long. Went home for dinner, then headed back outside until the street lights came on.

Everybody felt like family. And, like any family, we had our disagreements, our little fights. But nobody took them seriously. There was no drama. No knives or weapons or beat-downs. We’d run home, sometimes in tears, sometimes angry. Sleep on it. And go right back to playing the next day as if nothing had ever happened. All being forgiven.

As we got older, we kept each others’ secrets. Who had tried a cigarette. Who had ventured beyond the acceptable limits of the neighborhood and snuck down to the pond and stream down the street. Who had played spin-the-bottle for their first kiss. Nothing too serious and nothing too dangerous. We had all the innocence of the time to keep us safe and secure. It was pretty idyllic.

I know now that our parents had a lot to do with this. They were all pretty consistent with what we could and could not do in each others’ yards. They set limits and we listened. They had rules and we followed them. We listened to and respected each others’ parents as if they were our own. It was just the way things were in those days.

Over the years, some of the families ended up moving away. In fact there are only a few of the original families still in the old neighborhood. The elders are all in their early nineties and had been doing pretty well. Until this spring. This spring we lost two of them. It’s like losing a part of your heart. Part of your childhood. With each passing I’ve come to realize how precious time is. I look at my mother and father and think…they are amazing. They look fabulous….but I know, time will soon be catching up with them as well. As long as the others were still on this earth I could imagine that none of them would ever leave. I could imagine that they would live forever, keeping my sweet childhood memories, and thus, my heart, intact.

I know the time will come when it will be me and my siblings facing the loss. And, at this point, it will be sooner rather than later. That’s just the realty of life. I can feel the sadness well up inside when thinking about how our friends have to grieve, feeling a keen sense that it is more than just sadness for their loss. I am feeling my loss before it has even happened. Wondering how will I ever make it through a day without the familiar sound of my mother’s musical voice when she answers the phone. What will I do when I cannot talk to my father with his twinkling Irish eyes? How can life possibly go on?

At the same time, I know it will. And I know I will be OK. Because if I am not OK, they will kick my ass. From wherever they are. Heaven. Another dimension of life. It won’t matter. They will kick my ass. Trust me.