Go 73.

The day is done. The suffering is over. The next journey is underway. My little pal Kyle has shaken off the dust and is on his way to... well, Heaven, even though I don't know exactly what that means and I don't think any of us will really know until we're there ourselves. But I know he's on his way now, and I suspect he maybe had a hand in pulling one last prank on me on his way out of town early this morning. And I know my sister is there waiting for him, and I KNOW she's waiting for him because she told me she would be last summer, and just reminded me again this afternoon.

I wish I could see that time they first get together. October 9th won't be a favorite date for either of them, since that's the day he died and the day she was buried. But once they get past that awkwardness, they'll have some good times. Better times than any of us could understand. Trust me -- those two are going to hit it off big time.

And as for the Go 73? Maybe you saw it on Facebook, maybe you saw it on his CaringBridge page, numerous times. Wish I could explain it, but it was something the two of us came up with intending for it to be our private joke, something we'd laugh at because we got it, and then laugh at more because nobody else would. It wouldn't be right for me to break that confidence even if he's not here anymore. Okay, his mom knew, too. But I don't think she's going to spill it either.

The last time I saw him was at his birthday party. I went back to the room where he was resting to say goodbye, reached out for our customary fist-bump and, as had become part of our routine, did not say goodbye. But instead the last words we exchanged?

Go 73.