I miss him terribly. I am filled with regret that I wasn't kinder and more accepting of him. I was judgmental and snobby. I thought that I was better than he was, and if he would just listen to me I could make him cooler, a better dad, a more successful person. My brother and I couldn't have been much different if we he were a fish and I were a bird, but we were part of a pair. We were raised together, shared all the same stories, understood our family, and knew each other in the unique way of just spending 27 years together in that weird relationship we had.
I know that the reason I want a big family is because my own family is whittled away to just two. When my Mom dies, I will have no immediate family left. By then my grandparents will be long gone, my parents dead and my only sibling dead. The thought is so isolating and terrifying to me that it gives me a tightness in my chest just writing it. My family felt so big when I was younger; cousins everywhere, aunts and uncles, grandparents that were more like parents. It's hard to marry how I went from that to this. I know this is why it's so important for me to create my own big family. I want a lot of kids. I want those kids to grow up, find the loves of their life and create their own big families. When I die, I want my kids to still feel like their holidays are full of people. Full of drama, full of busy schedules trying to see everyone, but most importantly, full of people to love and love them.
I'm missing when my brother and I would have our obligatory, "What should we get mom?" conversations leading up to the holidays. I'm wishing that I could go back in time and hug him and try and find some common ground. I want to shake people that tell me that they don't really get along with their siblings. I was the queen of that back before I didn't have one to say that about. I even said, "My brother is an addict, he will probably die. I don't even honestly know how I would feel if it happened." Those are some numb words right there.
I want to talk about that night, because that's the heavy shit that's on my heart that no one wants to hear about.
The day it happened, I had sent my brother a 3 page text telling him that I loved him, that I didn't think he should leave for Arkansas the next day and that I wanted him to be well. I said I wanted to have a real brother and sister relationship. When he didn't write back, I turned my phone off. We were at Jane's house (Cameron's mom).
Later, my mom called Cameron's phone and was hysterical. I took the phone to calm her down. She said my brother was on the way to the hospital, not breathing. I told her we'd seen this before. He was probably just breathing shallow. I said, don't worry I'm sure everything is going to be fine. I remember being mildly concerned, but I really felt that this was just going to be a charcoal in the stomach, hooked up to IVs for a couple of days overdose. I was honestly so irritated that I didn't even make plans to go to the hospital. I was so tired of my brother's antics.
When my Mom called back a couple minutes later, I heard her screaming through Cameron's phone. We were laying in bed. I put my face in the pillow and chanted, "God, don't let him die. Don't let him die. Don't let him die."
Cameron got off the phone and tried to get my attention, but I wasn't talking. "Babe? Baby. I need you to listen to me. Are you listening to me?" "Yes...", I said.
"Your brother died."
I remember flashes of what happened next. I remember trying to stand up, but then somehow being on the floor crying. Cameron said I tried to walk out of the house. I remember walking a few paces and then doubling over crying. I remember Jane crying and hugging me from behind. I remember Cameron lifting me off the floor and laying me on the bed. I remember not knowing what to do.
On the way to the hospital, I remember getting calls from people. I remember Aidan calling crying. I remember getting texts that people loved me. I remember the immediate crushing weight of knowing that I was the only person left for my Mom. I knew how hard she would hug me when she saw me. I was her only remaining child. The weight of that responsibility made me dread going to the hospital, even more so than seeing my brother. I felt like I couldn't carry that weight, her emotions were going to be too big for me to carry with my own.
At the hospital, my Mom surprised me by basically keeping it together. She hugged me close, but not desperately like I'd thought.
The hospital was strange. We went between the grief room and my brother's room. It's so strange to me that we just sat around him in the room. He still had the tube in his mouth. I remember he looked like he was sleeping, just kind of ashen. I looked at my brother in a way that I probably had never done before. Examined his arm hair, his leg, the way his nose looked like mine, his hair. I tried to wrap my mind around the fact that the body in front of me was no longer living. The numbness had already crept in. I remember looking at the room. They must have had us in some sort of stock room, could that be? There was medicine and machines everywhere. Maybe that's what they do with dead people to save space for people that need rooms for treatment. People came in and out. I sat on Cameron's lap. My mom touched my brother's body. I remember thinking that I couldn't possibly do that. I wish they'd taken out the intubation tube, it was a constant reminder that he was dead not sleeping. I felt the anger creeping in that night.
During the next week while my family was flying in, I was hiding out with the Froments. I believe that if someone had been watching through a window, they would have never noticed that girl sitting there just lost her brother. Here is a picture of me holding one of my nieces during that time...
I'm so grateful for that distraction during that time. It took me over a year to pass through the anger and move into acceptance and sadness. I just couldn't have been surrounded by all of that emotion from my family. Everyone talking about how great he was, and all the good stories. I was remembering the addict still. Angry that he would be so stupid. Furious that he did this to our family, his kids! I wasn't ready for sweet stories about my brother. I wanted to wake him up and yell at him.
I remember telling my kids, and it was kind of a non-event. I planned out what I would say and how I would tell them so that I could be strong and set a good example of healthy emotion. As if I am any kind of authority on that. I had one tear fall down, but that was it. I told them, we hugged and I asked them what they needed from me. Then I switched tracks and we watched a movie.
The funeral was a blur. I wasn't going to say anything, but at the last minute decided to. God only knows what I said. I remember I was dressed so strangely. A little black dress with like a black feathery flamboyant hair piece. I didn't want to buy anything for "my brother's funeral" because I felt like I could never wear it again. I'd hate it in my closet. So my friend Karis brought over a bunch of dresses and I ended up wearing one of hers. I distracted myself from the weirdness of what I was getting dressed for by dressing fabulous. I remember everyone telling me how pretty I looked. I'm sure people judged me for how I was dressed, but it's just how I had to do it. To dress bland, or sad would have been to admit that I should be feeling something.
The last thing I want to talk about is how weird it is to me that he's cremated. I think it would be so much easier for me if I had a place where I knew even his bones were. Knowing that his ashes are in an urn at my mom's house does nothing for my sense of understanding. For something physical to no longer exist in any way goes against my reality. I think of his little details like his nose, his teeth, his hair and how they literally don't exist. Souls leave, fine. I get that. But no physical part exists now either? I just can't. It's made me decide that I want to leave enough money for my kids to bury me. I want them to have somewhere to go to talk to me. This whole, "you can talk to them anywhere" concept is too abstract. People need to feel like they are there with someone somehow.
So holidays are different for me now. They bring up all of this shit and with each year it gets harder to talk about and easier to talk about all at once. When I feel like I'm ready to really spill my guts, I feel like everyone else is ready to move on.
There's no good ending for this. But go hug people today, even the ones you don't wanna.
