It sounds so warped. It feels so warped. And yet you know it's the right thing to do. When you die, you live on, on facebook. And your friends can say, "Happy Birthday," and post about how much they miss you. And they will. Tim died a few days before his fiftieth birthday. Today, he would've turned fifty one. But he didn't because he died in his sleep, which is what I have down as "favored way to go." Tim died in his sleep just over one year ago. All our friends, back in Minneapolis, had a big party planned for him, and after he died, they went ahead and had the party anyway. I wasn't able to make it. Tim was a close friend; a good friend; a person I've known since fifth grade, and at one time was probably my best friend. But I still didn't have time for him, and that's not because I'm horrible. Life gives you these commitments, and mine are to my wife first, and then all our animals, and then my mom and dad, who are still struggling along in their eighties, and, well, stuff. So I wasn't going to go to Tim's party when he was alive, and I sure wasn't going to drop everything and go up there after he died. But that doesn't mean I don't miss him. I do. I really, really do. Tim won't be posting any more pictures of his dog, or his sisters, or his mom, or whatever thing passes his fancy. He won't be sharing recipes, or posting photos of what he's about to eat. He won't be posting a picture of a mountain, or a rainbow, or a horse with words printed over it, with some kind of inspirational or funny message. And there's one other thing he'll never do: Delete his facebook profile. God bless you, Tim, and Happy Birthday.