I'm oblivious.
For God's sake if you're making money, live where you want to live, successfully raised children and ... pretty much doing whatever you want ... LIFE IS GOOD.
Except it isn't.
Strolling down the beach on a picture postcard day I've drink my beer ... carrying the empty in my University of Georgia Koozie ... index finger stuck in the hole of the can ... feet in the surf ... the beach is packed so I dart around kids building sand castles ... Frisbee throwers ... abandoned towels and people who refuse to move.
The one who's leaving me is home ... packing ... though I'm oblivious ... and make my way up the stairs of the Pier.
My normal friends ... and I use the adjective "loosely" ... have already left.
Michelle pops a top and refreshes my Koozie with no words spoken.
Turning to look at the Sea ... my cousin Ricky Hinely's feet are propped on the railing ... a family trait ... intensely talking to his friend.
Ricky's two month's younger than I ... along with our other cousin Rick Donaldly ... we were in an intense race to be the firstborn grandchild.
Ricky came in second.
Rick came in third.
"Cuz," he says smiling.
"Cuz," I reply as we click bottles.
"Cuz" is our family greeting.
I have a thousand cousins ... Ricky was the first.
My feet prop next to his.
He has this funny grin ... a smirk really ... endearing as Hell.
"What's a country boy doing at the beach?" I ask.
"Country needs to come to town every once in a while," he says ... then ... "This isn't really town is it?"
"No," I reply and we laugh.
And we talk sitting in the sunshine on a glorious day ... sipping beers ... referring to each other in the family way ... feet propped on the rail.
He's sick and this is his last trip to the beach.
I'm fortunate enough to stumble upon an unplanned family reunion.
"They've taken everything Cuz," he says staring at the Sea.
"Yeah," I answer thinking I understand though I don't.
A month later I'm shocked because he is dead.
I'm still alive.
Like every Funeral ... his sucked ... primarily because he wasn't there.
A year later Rick dies.
There's a big gap in the family tree ... broken braches have fallen down ... and we're no longer everything we should be ... but the tree remains.
I think it's a "Cuz" sort of day.
I'm going to try to make it to the Pier ... maybe get a beer ... look at the Sea ... toast Ricky and Rick ... say a Prayer thanking God for them ... and wonder why?
Something's not quite right.
And I'm determined God and I are going to work it out before I die.
