As I rounded the hill on I64 this morning, coffee in hand and pleading for sweet release from the unrelenting grasp of the morning cold, it took no effort to remember the date. I chuckled to myself, since most days I couldn’t even begin to tell what month it even is. Not today. The black band on my wrist a pitiful reminder to pray for, to think about, to quietly mourn the world’s losses over the past 11 years.

Friday, December 9, 1994. I’ve written about it before, an attempt to capture how I was feeling as a result of Ryan’s death. Last year on this day I wrote of Fred Beier’s death as well, doing little justice to the man’s memory with my words. Every year, every single year over the past 11 years, I’ve managed to remember. And while I’ve struggled to remember on each and every day of those 11 years, I still set aside the ninth of December as a day of rememberence for all those in my life (excluding family members) that I’ve lost.

So because I can do no honor in my writing, I will suffice it to say that today I pray for the families of Ryan, Josh, Jason, Nate, Jennifer, Derrick, Fred and Kevin.

Rest peacefully, all.