Serious Side Up – December 2025

   This month marks two years since I’ve seen you in person, but I see you several times a month, in my day-to-day, and probably about twice or more a month in my dreams.
   You’re in the face of Mickey’s eight-year-old son in that Peacock series on TV called “Long Bright River,” his name is Thomas, who often goes by the name “T” (which is ironic) – he looks JUST like you. And you’re the spittin’ image of random strangers I see at an event, a grocery store or just passing me by on the street.
   You’re in songs that play on the radio or the background music in movies. You’re even in the beautiful music of the very large wind chimes my new neighbor upstairs has hanging from her back porch. Just hearing the chimes, I immediately hear you.
   You’re in the California Psychics commercial on the radio – once their signature music starts playing with these guys whistling and humming in the background, I say out loud in the car, “Hi Troy” – because that’s the commercial that was playing the day – the last day – I laid eyes on you – only at that time, your spirit had left your body and I saw you “sleeping” while still propped up. That commercial was playing on the radio in my car as I drove to your apartment to see if you were OK.
   It’s really strange, because ever since Dec. 19, when I found you passed away, on one hand, you’re gone, but on the other hand, you’re present – you’re everywhere. Not like an angel sort-of-thing, or spiritually omnipresent, but actually here, on earth – in other people, songs, sounds and while I sleep.
   Twenty-four months later and it’s still not easy.
   The five months of counseling or “therapy sessions” I attended after you passed, helped significantly, but the pain still feels is as if I just found you today. Tears will roll just like that – at any moment, any given time – there’s no rhyme or reason.
   When I see your “doppelgänger” on the street, I want to go up to “you” and hug you and hold you and laugh with you and ask if you want to go do Mexican food at El Tapatio’s in Pleasant Hill … “Bro, wanna meet right after my DVC class for drinks, chips and salsa?” The answer was always yes.
   Sometimes I’m audibly angry with you for leaving so soon. For changing the death-order, since you are (I hate saying “were”) two years my junior. I’m supposed to die before you, not the other way around – you jerk. Most other times, I understand, because I can hear you saying back to me, “You’re not the boss of me.”
   All the other times – it’s the pain of love. The pain of letting go. The pain of acceptance. The pain of life.
   Troy, I want you back on earth. Not in other people, but in you.
   I want to annoy you with my stupid jokes. I want to go to more car shows with you and act like I know what I’m talking about. I want more chips and salsa with you, because you always treated. I want more memories with you – especially ones like when I heard a loud thump in the middle of the night and found out in the morning that you had fallen off the guest bed.
   I want to be selfish in wanting you here, not in heaven and not feel guilty for that.
   I want the pain to stop.
   But don’t worry bro, I’ll be OK. I manage to pull through and smile – and I think that’s because I get to still “see” you and hear you wherever I go. I love you and miss you so much dear brother Troy Spencer.