Vin Brocki: Blogging

One week ago I learned that my first cousin Rick passed away. He was my age.

Rick and I had a lot of fun when we were younger. We were both products of a large, closely-knit ethnic family. Amidst a whole bunch of cousins, I held him in special regard. He was generous in many ways, with a real passion for life.

And yet, I hadn’t spoken to him in over a year.

He lived across the state, not across the country. And phones work wherever you are. So today, along with sadness, there’s some guilt.

Not crushing guilt. Not dramatic guilt. Just that quiet, persistent whisper: You could have called.

This is the strange arithmetic of aging. As we get older, the circle gets smaller. News travels faster. The words “passed away” appear more frequently than we’d like. And with each one, we do a quick internal inventory.

When was the last time we talked?

Did I mean to reach out?

Why didn’t I?

The assumption that there will be another window? There usually has been.

Until there isn’t.

Here’s the part that feels complicated: I don’t want to turn this into a grand vow that I will now try to reconnect with every person that was once important in my life. That’s silly, and it’s not how relationships work. Communication is a two-way street.

But maybe aging asks something more subtle of us. Maybe it asks us to act on the nudge. That small moment when someone crosses your mind for no logical reason.

No birthday reminder. No Facebook prompt. Just a memory, drifting through like an old melody.

As musician and drummer, I like to think I know a little something about timing. But I now realize that not every note lands on the downbeat. Some connections are difficult to harmonize. Some come back around after a long rest.

And some don’t.

Aging doesn’t give us control over endings. It does, however, offer clarity about what matters.

Vin Brocki, Erie, PA, USA

February 23, 2026 your text here...