You Should Be Here

Have you ever played the game where you start watching one music video on YouTube and then try to only listen to subsequent videos that are shown on the side panel, because they’re of similar style? And then try to watch the link between the different songs and how it evolves? No? Just me?

Well, the other day, I found myself in a stretch of pretty emotional songs. Songs about missed opportunities, losing loved ones, and dealing with grief. And I straight up cried. And I wasn’t alone. I was in public. Cool, Jennifer, real cool.

I tend to think of myself as a pretty level-headed person. Not super emotional. Definitely try to contain myself in public places. But that day was not one of those days.

By song number 3 or 4, I started to realize I needed those tears. I needed to feel those emotions. (If only I could have had better timing.)

It really broke loose on “You Should Be Here” by Cole Swindell.

You should be here, standing with your arm around me here
Cutting up, cracking a cold beer
Saying cheers, hey y’all it’s sure been a good year
It’s one of those moments, that’s got your name written all over it
And you know that if I had just one wish it’d
Be that you didn’t have to miss this
You should be here

Ok, so the writing could have used a little polishing, and it may not sound like a song to transcend the ages, but if you’ve never watched the video, it starts off with a real life iPhone video of Cole calling his dad to say that he just signed a record deal. Can you imagine that? What a big moment that is? How that would feel as a parent, but to also make that call TO your parent? Oh, the pride. The video follows Cole as he simultaneously celebrates some of his life’s greatest achievements and grieves the sudden loss of his father. It ends in a feeling I know all too well… as he pours out his grief in the middle of a cemetery at his father’s headstone.

I’m pretty sure I’ve never talked about this here on the blog, but I lost my dad when I was seven years old. No, not lost. I don’t think that’s the right word for the gravity of that situation. We didn’t misplace one another at the supermarket. My dad was murdered. Stripped away from my family. Evil at work. Losing him at such a young age forever altered my childhood and my life. I may go into detail about that some more in the future, but that’s not what this post was originally about.

July 10, 1997. That’s the day my mom became a single mother, but it’s also the day my oldest brother, at just 17 years old, took on a role that would continue to shape my life. Jason became the father figure I had just lost. For the next 5 years, he played that role until his own untimely death during Christmastime just weeks shy of celebrating his 23rd birthday – February 8th.

Yep, that’s today. And perhaps what brings this all about.

Now, I’ve never signed a record deal, and I can assure this voice never will. But I have done some pretty cool things in life. They weren’t all grand. They weren’t all award worthy. But I can’t think of many of them where I didn’t look around and think, “You should be here.”

My brother had just started working a paper mill job before his wreck. (In the world where I grew up, that was a big deal.) He was so new, in fact, that he wasn’t even out of the probationary period for health insurance. But in that short time, he had already taken me, his annoying 10 years younger little sister, to family day. A 22 year old boy, who had long become a man, took his 12 year old sister to company family day. I’ve always thought of that as special, but every year I get older, that means more and more to me.

In fact, many of the things I remember or learn about him as I get older, impress me more and more as the years go by. As I went through high school and into college, my driving force was, oddly enough, not my own self. Well, at least not completely. You see, before Jason worked at the paper mill, he was the local appliance repair man. At 19, 20, 21 years old, he was spending hours all around the clock crawling on the floors of families in desperate need of a working refrigerator or fixing a washing machine that hadn’t been working right for months. It wasn’t glamorous, but he did it with grit. And pride. But what drove me to succeed to the level I have was something he told my mom one time. She says he came in one night, and as he sat stripping off filthy socks and dirty old work boots, he told her that “if it meant [he] had to work ’round the clock to afford it [himself], that [I’d] go to college.” Wherever I wanted (though he did hold a special place for Auburn). Because he was determined that I was going to be educated and succeed. A barely 20-something year old big brother, y’all. Those were his thoughts. Now, I’m sure he had his own dreams and aspirations, but to think his dreams for me ranked so high among those that they drove his work ethic…….

You should be here. 

Today, you’d turn 39 years old.

You should be here. 

You’ve missed out on a lot these past 16 years.

You should be here.

I think I’ve done pretty well, so far. Auburn was pretty great. I just hate you never had the chance to come to a game with me.

You should be here.

You’d love Seth. He’s pretty great, too. I’m certain you’d approve. After all, you knew him before I did really.

You should be here.

Jeremy and Scott are both married. And boy, do they have some cute kids. I just wish you knew them. And that they knew you.

You should be here.

Julie. Well, she’s still Julie. Just as hard headed as ever. And I know she misses you. She won’t talk about it, of course. That’s too much like a sign of weakness. But you were, after all, her first best friend.

You should be here.

And then there’s Mama. I can’t even begin to go there. I hope I never have to comprehend what she thinks and knows. But I do know she could probably use you here. She has been dealing with a few things of her own lately. And it just doesn’t seem fair for one person to have had to go through so much.

You should be here.

It happens a lot less as the years go by, but every now and then, I still have people who want to share stories about you. And that ranks pretty high on my list of favorite things in this world. Because, even if it’s only for a few minutes, when they talk about you, you still live on in that moment and those that linger behind as they walk away.

You should be here.

Life has changed pretty drastically since you’ve been gone. But I can’t help but to wonder how it would have changed if you were still here. Who you would have become. Who you would have married. The kids you would have had. You know those people that want to share stories about you? Several of them are women who could have been Mrs. Jason Henson, if time would have allowed.

You should be here.

You should have been here every day for the last 5,887 days. You should be here to celebrate the last year of your 30’s. You should be here next year to be the first of the Henson 5 to see what 40 feels like. You should be here to see life unfolds for all of us. There will be more weddings and more babies. There will be more birthdays and laughs. And God knows there will be more arguments and pointless fights, because you can’t have that many Hensons in such close proximity without butting heads. And…

You should be here.

It’s one of those never forget it, better stop and take it in kinda scenes
Everything’s just right yeah except for one thing…….

You should be here.