My friend Mark Stanley would have been 50 years old yesterday. He's been gone twelve and a half years already. Were he alive today, that would amount to a full quarter of his entire life. It's two and a half times longer than I knew him, though I felt like I knew him for a lifetime.
I already feel a bit wistful about my upcoming birthday. My birthdays can be quite joyous, but also laden with people long gone, as if I'm celebrating for all of us, not just for me.
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