Seven years since we lost Robbie to leukemia.
The first year was the toughest, as you might expect. The five year mark had a certain weight to it. The seven year mark definitely feels like a chunk of time has passed but it lacks the significance of the every-five-year cycle.
Still, his passing deserves recognition. Deb, Kate, and I find ourselves speaking more freely about him, with less pain. I no longer find myself hesitating in answering the question, “Is there anyone other than Kate?” In fact, this past weekend, a good portion of our Sunday dinner conversation was reliving Shore Leave Masquerades from the past, the many ensembles he was a part of and some of his solo efforts. The stories were told with ease and laughter.
But there are those moments I still think, “Robbie’d love this…” or “I have to tell him about…”
And there are the moments when my mind is drawn back to those final days rather than the happier ones. I don’t dwell often on the past and wish I could train my mind to bypass the pain but its there in stark realty, visiting me unbidden and lingering before vanishing.
His legacy remains. It’s a shame the usual organizer of the Robbie Greenberger Memorial Texas Hold ‘Em Tournament could not be at Shore Leave this year, nor would she let any else run it. Farpoint continues to hand out the Robbie Greenberger Most Original Award although we’re now reaching participants who never knew him and it feels weird.
Friends continue to remember him on his Facebook page and is still mentioned in other anecdotes. I have to admire the impact he made among his peers in a brief 20 years and sometimes speculate what sort of adult he would be today. I can’t safely predict the career he would have eventually wound up in but I do know he would still be funny, a devoted friend, and a follower to his own beat.
Not a bad legacy.