Today is my brother's birthday. He would have been 38 years old...
We were born 15 months apart. As my Mom says, it was like she had two babies. Growing up, we were the best of friends. Pretty much inseparable. While I was a girly-girl, and liked Barbies and dollhouses and things that were pink, because of him, and my youngest brother, I also appreciated Star Wars and He-Man and GI Joe. While they wouldn't play with my stuff... you know, it being pink and all!... I had no issue setting up Snake Mountain or taking Luke and Han out on missions. I remember once, we were playing outside in the snow and somehow Luke Skywalker got lost in an avalanche. We searched for a long time, but couldn't find him anywhere. He made his reappearance in the spring when the snow melted. We watched Garfield holiday specials and The Muppet Show together. Walked home from school, went to the movies. Regular brother and sister things.
As we got older, and became obnoxious teenagers, we drifted apart. As is wont to happen, we started becoming different people and hanging out with different crowds. Our goals and dreams became different and our personalities began to clash. We were no longer interested in the same things or the same ideas. As we got older, my brother also seemed to develop a serious case of middle child syndrome. Even though my parents treated us all as equals, he somehow seemed to feel that we, and the world, owed him something. And this used to drive me nuts! Often, we would get into fights over the stupidest things, and other times we couldn't even have a conversation without it turning in to an argument.
As we got into our 20's, we were virtual strangers. I moved away to go to University and pretty much all of our communication ceased. We saw each other on holidays and maybe had a conversation or two every year, but that was about it. I still felt that he had a huge chip on his shoulder, and he thought that I was nothing but a pretentious bitch. That was pretty much our relationship for a decade or so. We loved each other, because we were family, but definitely weren't friends like we used to be.
He died on November 26, 2008. It's a day that is etched in my memory, and I'm pretty sure will be for the rest of my life. I remember what the weather was like that day, what I had for lunch, what I was doing when the knock on the door happened. I remember answering the door, my stomach in knots, because there was only two reasons for two police officers to come knocking that late at night, and I knew no one was getting arrested. I remember the officer actually saying the word "deceased."
I didn't cry at his funeral. I see crying as a weakness, but only in myself, not in other people. It was the first time that I had ever seen my Dad cry. There were 3 songs played at his funeral, songs that he had always had a connection with, and to this day, I can't listen to them. I haven't been to the cemetery to visit his grave, even though I heard that his headstone is beautiful. I can't do it. It's too hard... too final. My Mom stopped going because it made her too sad, but my Dad still goes every Sunday. I am just thankful that the last time I saw him, a couple of days before he passed, we actually managed to have a nice conversation. It was mundane, about chicken, but it didn't end in a big fight, so I'll take it as a win. When he reached his 30's, he changed, seemed to mature a bit, and became a lovely, interesting man. And I'm sad that I didn't get a chance to know the man that he would become.
I think about my brother every day... which makes me even sadder, because I think about him now, more than I ever did while he was alive. But I guess that's what happens. We don't truly appreciate what we have until it's gone. There's a part of me that still can't believe he's gone. There's a part of my heart that's missing, and I'll never quite be whole again. But, life does go on for those of us left behind. And while I would really rather that he be here with us, I am glad to know, since that's not possible, that he's up there, looking out for us. Someone up there is on our side.
I miss you. I love you, very much, even though I didn't say it enough. Happy birthday, little brother.
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