3 years ago today

A year ago today, I wrote this:

"Today marks two years since I lost my baby brother.  Things are different now then they were when we first lost him.  Different, not really better or worse.  Time has started to blunt the horrible, gut-wrenching pain that was my life when he died.  It has been replaced with a kind of deep, always-there-in-the-back-of-your-mind, kind of despair.  I still do the things I did before, with the obvious exception of talking to my brother about every stupid little thing in my life.  I smile, I sometimes laugh, I work on gardens and food forest, I plant trees, I make plans.  Through it all I feel a little like a ghoul wearing a clown mask.

As I said, the sharpest pain is receding.  Since the day he died, a weird condition has affected me.  When my thoughts turn toward my brother, I can feel my mind spasm and clench down, slamming shut a door, like your eyes would if I blew a handful of dust into them.  My mind tries to force me to look away, quickly, at anything, anyone, as long as I'm not thinking about J.  I can push through it now for short periods, to try to remember him.  It seems so strange to me.  My mind rebels against thoughts of him, when forgetting him is the last thing I want.  I still can't get past the idea that I will never see him again, and that thought brings back that terrible feeling that starts in my stomach and wraps around my heart like a vise.

My life is divided now to before-J, and after-J.  My brother was young, and kind, and strong.  He took those things with him when he left, and he took them from me as well, leaving me old, and weak, and frail.  Things that were easy are hard, things that were hard, impossible.  Maybe I just don't care enough any more to put forth the effort?  It's very possible.  Some days I feel like I'm just waiting to die.  It's not that I want to.  There are lots of things I still want to do first.  I just don't care nearly as much as I used to.

My parents are older, in their seventies.  They don't wear the mask as well as I do.  Their unhappiness still shows through, no matter the situation.  My mom especially struggles to get through her days, and I'm certain that she is just checking off days in her head, wishing for it to all be over.  She would never end her life, simply because she wouldn't do that to the rest of us, but she is ready to be done.  Done with hurt, with pain, with loss.  She has been hurt so many times, I think she has just used up any energy she used to have to try to come back, to recover, to try to live life.  Any strength she has left is used up trying to put on a happy face for the rest of us.  She is as selfless a person as I have ever met.

I'm hoping writing this down will help.  It's supposed to be cathartic.  Personally, I'm calling bullshit.

If anyone has stuck with this this long, my only real message is the same as last year.  Find the people you love, tell them, hold them.  You never know when the last time will be."

So, another year has passed.  Very little has changed since I wrote that.  I'm trying hard to practice gratitude, and I'm getting better at it.  I still divide my life into two pieces, the days before, and days after my brother died.  I'm come to accept that that will always be the case.  Things still happen often that I'm sorry he missed, I still reach for my phone to call him when anything interesting, or not so interesting, happens, but not as often.  I think about him less often now, and that is what brings me the greatest pain.  I don't want to think of him less often, but thinking about him brings pain.  If that isn't some kind of f-ed up dilemma, I'm not sure what is.

If anyone has a spare minute today, please just send a kind thought into the universe for the beautiful human being my brother was.

Again, I'll leave you with this:  Find the people you love, tell them, hold them.  You never know when the last time will be.

Howdy Trace, I am sending prayers and good thoughts out for you and your family today.

I lost my big brother many years ago. He taught me how to draw, how to hunt, about raising chickens, how to build a house, (we built two together), He had so much going on in his life. I found it very gratifying when I saw how many people showed up at his funeral. He was loved by many. He left a wife and two sons behind.  It is very hard for a parent to lose a child. My folks were hit hard by the news.

I am of the unwavering opinion that there is something/somewhere else, other than this earthly plane, that we go to after we are done here. No doubt in my mind and that is what makes things easier. I will see him again.

Since then, I have lost both of my folks and many friends and relatives. Again, I will see them all again. My folks and my brother, as well as one of my best friends, have sent me signs after they passed. Things that were so out of the ordinary and so specific to our relationship, that I know it was them.

So, I say to you, be open to the signs, have faith that you will see him again. Carry on and make him proud of you!

Miles Flansburg wrote:Howdy Trace, I am sending prayers and good thoughts out for you and your family today.

I lost my big brother many years ago. He taught me how to draw, how to hunt, about raising chickens, how to build a house, (we built two together), He had so much going on in his life. I found it very gratifying when I saw how many people showed up at his funeral. He was loved by many. He left a wife and two sons behind.  It is very hard for a parent to lose a child. My folks were hit hard by the news.

I am of the unwavering opinion that there is something/somewhere else, other than this earthly plane, that we go to after we are done here. No doubt in my mind and that is what makes things easier. I will see him again.

Since then, I have lost both of my folks and many friends and relatives. Again, I will see them all again. My folks and my brother, as well as one of my best friends, have sent me signs after they passed. Things that were so out of the ordinary and so specific to our relationship, that I know it was them.

So, I say to you, be open to the signs, have faith that you will see him again. Carry on and make him proud of you!

Thanks Miles.  I'm sorry you lost your brother.  I wish I had your faith that there is something after this.  I don't, but I'm glad there are people that do.  It has to be a great comfort, and I'm glad you have that.

I'm holding you and your brother in the light today, Trace.

Trace, Miles, I'm a member of the lost a brother club too... It's been about ten years. I think of him a lot, especially when I do something in a way that he taught me, or I see his face in my reflection in the mirror (11 years apart, but we looked enough alike that I'd get "you're David's brother, aren't you?" comments, all the time. Mom could only tell our baby photos apart by the background...) I feel as though I lost him a few times over the years, piece by piece, to our family troubles, and legal troubles, again and again... I try to remember the best parts, his humor, ingenuity, thoughtfulness; and try to get past the bad, anger, violence, manipulation. It's not easy.