The morning after is when the truth hurts most of all.

Purpose of this story aside, last night I truly had the best time I’ve had all year.

All my favorite friends from the past 50 years gathered for a party celebrating 40 years of marriage with a couple dear to us all.

I don’t drink coffee at 5pm for just anyone. But this group, this night was gonna be worth every lasting moment. If any night past my strict 7pm bedtime called for staying power, this one was gonna be it.

So much history.

So many years.

All the memories except 10 years right smack dab in the middle that I missed altogether. Lost forever to now long awkward silences in recollective conversations because you simply weren’t there.

930pm now, I’m home awake from the coffee and pissed I missed all those 10 years.

If you’ve never done a chunk of time in prison or on drugs away from family and friends and all that’s sane and normal, you may not relate but be thankful for it. But whether forced or chosen, that time separated from those you know and love is full of history and experiences you can neither share nor recover.

I first realized this with my family at holidays since where they all laughed recalling memories and inside jokes about which I was and am still clueless.

Last night the same phenomenon happened with friends whose full histories I should know but stopped cold around Y2K on a long downhill slide.

Even now, decades later, experiences like these illustrate the way I am and who I’ve become. Everything is being made clearer and it’s a little sad and a lot less nostalgic than I’d hoped.

Regardless, it was a lot of fun and so good to be welcomed within that crowd again.

Life is one long lesson about how love for friends and family is always the best choice to make and events along the way to remind you of it, even if it took a decade to come back to your senses.