Birthday Note from Aunt Maria

2/27/05

 I look back on a part of my life I took for granted.  I related to Greg as an aunt, through the vortex of his parent’s eyes and hearts.

  Greg was special-when he talked with someone-he locked on them.  He seemed to want to make the moment matter-even when there wasn’t much time, he would be dropping something off-or you’d run in to him somewhere (deep winter: picking up his bronchitis meds at Osco in shorts and sandals).  He would stop-connect, you felt he cared.

  I saw Greg as a unit-with one, then two, then three brothers.  I saw Greg as the masthead, with Mike, Diana, Chris, Stevan and Paul.  Always ahead, the first to reach all landmarks of schooling and living. He made it look easy.  He so much enjoyed his friends and his family.  He loved to visit, play games, watch and play sports and music, discuss ideas and have many active experiences.  Greg, in and out the door, with all the happiness ahead of him.

  Greg would be 24 today.  Twenty-fourth birthday.  He might have had some thoughts about approaching 25-quarter century.  He would have been enjoying the birthday acknowledgments and visits with family and friends on this day.  He certainly would be basking in the Illini’s unbeaten record.

  There is no rhyme or reason, no meant to be, for me, in Greg’s death.  His absence is a shattering loss.  How we live, what we do in his memory and love for him is the saving grace available to us.