But 2 weeks and 1 day ago my little brother died. He was only 21. I left home when he was 9 years old so now I find myself saddened by the fact that I don't have nearly enough memories of time spent with him. I try to focus on the fact that what time we did spend together in the last 12 years was good quality time, and not marred by many sibling rivalries. Even when we were younger we didn't fight much...although I did spend a majority of my early teenage years grounded by my mother for my refusal to clean his room (or some other random nonsense such as that). But I loved him and know he loved me.
And he got to do a lot in his short life. Nick came to my Basic Training graduation (MI), he came with my mom during a work conference to spend the week with me in Arizona, he visited the weekend after birth of my oldest son (VA/DC) and spent a week with me there without my mom. I can't remember if he ever came to Georgia (I am thinking not), but he did visit me twice in Hawai'i. Plus, he was always there every time I came back to Cleveland for one of my visits.
But you know what, even focusing on the positive, it still totally sucks. My baby brother isn't here anymore and I am not going to get to see him again. And I get that many people are of the belief that our loved ones never really leave us. I know that he is always in my heart. But the simple fact is it doesn't really make it hurt any less. I know that for a fact. I remember it from when my dad died when he was only 36 (I was 16).
At the same time, the loss of my brother made me realize just how lucky I am to have the friends and family that I do. I had two friends drive 6+ hours with their kids by themselves (one with 5, the other with 2 babies), just to come sit at my mom's house with me. I had other friends call of work to make sure I had someone to be with when shopping for funeral clothes. I had friends from 1/2 across the Pacific Ocean send flowers to the funeral. And my family, both my mother's and father's side, did everything they could (even while dealing with their own pain) to help me, my sister and mom. Even my husband was amazing, traveling over 24 hours to be with me just to turn around and drive to Indianapolis to meet my MIL and get me my babies (they were in Missouri on fall break).
Unfortunately, I find myself getting mad at Nick for what happened. I know it is a coping mechanism. I went through it with my dad. I do it to protect myself, because if I am mad enough it doesn't hurt as much. But that just means that I find myself ready to burst into tears at the most random times (and in the most inappropriate places) when my shield of mad slips for a minute.
Here's hoping that getting some of this out has helped.
