Every Day I Write The Book

It doesn’t seem possible that you are gone almost a year. My brother, my friend. There is so much that you have missed. Little things, big things. Moments that we all take for granted and moments that I will never take for granted again.

A hundred sunny days have come and gone away, and you didn’t get to feel the warmth of even one of those days.

You left so suddenly. We weren’t done. We had plans. How do I move on without my big brother?

We were far from perfect, as people or as brothers, but we had each other’s backs without question. The age difference between us made it harder for us to be close as we left early childhood. We both felt that we were very different, but we were actually a lot alike. I moved away at 17 and our relationship was mostly nonexistent. But then I moved home, and we shared an apartment in Mom and Dad’s house, and we found commonality as young adults. There were many ups and downs along the way, but we eventually became best friends. Neither of us felt like we had to include the other because we were brothers, it was because we were friends too. You were always at the top of my guest list, and I was at the top of yours (because honestly, who would do all the work for your parties lol). I am thankful for those years as friends. I had to let go of the past in order to do that, we both did, but you being an accepting and open minded person made that possible for me.

So now I write this book, every day, in my heart and my mind so that in some small way, I feel like you aren’t missing out on everything and in some small way you are still here.

You left us right as St. Patrick’s Month was getting started. The parades and parties, the corned beef and car bomb shots we always shared will never be the same. My month wasn’t a glorious green, it was black. Dark.

We always spent Easter together, having our traditional family meal of ham and kielbasa and sauerkraut. And of course, no holiday meal was complete without your favorite, Aunt Rhodi’s Broccoli Cheese Casserole. I always made a double batch so that you could have extra leftovers. I haven’t made it since our last Christmas together. I know it won’t taste the same. We ended up going to Florida at the last minute, I couldn’t bear to even be at home looking at that empty chair. I took a lot of reflective walks and drank a lot of beer, both with you in my heart. I wrote it all in the book.

The annual Elks Convention in Wildwood felt different without you. It was a pirate theme and there were times when I could almost hear you making corny jokes in the corner of the Lido Deck as the wind whipped off the ocean. I thought of the times where you partied too hard on Friday night and stayed locked up in your room for the rest of the weekend. I wanted to pound on that door and force you to join us. But you weren’t on the other side of that door this year.

Your Birthday! I am so thankful that we had that big party the year before for your 60th. It was what you wanted, and it felt like a reunion with family and many of your friends that you hadn’t seen in a while.

We did have a party in your honor at your house this year. One last hurrah before it sold. We called it JIMMERFEST. Old friends came together and shared pictures and stories, you would have loved it. I felt your presence. Terry and I cooked and did all the work, so it was almost like every other barbecue that you had LOL We also set the neighbor’s tree on fire with a Chinese lantern released in your honor. I was horrified. You probably would have thought it was hilarious. I wrote it in the book so you wouldn’t miss it.

July came and we did a family trip to Seattle with our Texas cousins. We rented a big house and explored the city. You would have been there and would have loved talking to the “kids” that are now grown-ups. We made a toast to you near Alki Beach. It reminded me of our previous visits to that city, especially our Alaskan cruise.

There were times when the summer dragged along and times when it flew by. Labor Day weekend was soon here, and we went to Springsteen for my birthday. I’ve seen him so many times over the years, but this was the first time without you. Our seats sucked but we had fun. Again, I put on a smile and enjoyed the day but that one hurt. Along with the music, I felt that pain in my soul. I recorded every moment of it in the book because I knew you wouldn’t want to miss that concert.

Going through your house was one of the most painful things I have ever done. Harder than Mom and Dad’s house. Everywhere I looked there were reminders of hope and promise, of a future. How excited you were when you bought that house and our recent discussions about you selling it and downsizing. It felt so wrong that we were packing up and selling without you. All the work that we did, I had always envisioned doing WITH you as you moved to your next chapter of life. Everyone said what a relief it was to have the house sold and that I could put it behind me, but it was one last physical piece of you that a part of me wanted to hold on to as long as I could. It broke my heart all over again.

The holidays again. I had to get away on Christmas also. We spent the 24th at a hotel in New Hope just to try to escape from the pain of the holiday. It didn’t work but I just needed a change of scenery. I am glad we had our last Christmas together the year before. Seeing you and Cousin Susan reconnect and laugh hysterically is a holiday memory I won’t ever forget.

Now it’s almost March and the cycle of “firsts” is coming to an end, but a year of “seconds” won’t be any easier. I know that. As I move forward past this first year without you, I know there are things that I need to work on for myself so that I can heal in a healthy way. I will never get over losing you but I know that I have to do a better job of dealing with it, not only for me but the family and friends that I love. I’ve finally learned that I need to take care of myself first in order to be there for others. You helped me see that. I learned so much from you in life: loyalty, standing by your family, generosity, and how to be a good friend. And as painful as it has been, you have taught me just as much in your death.

There are moments when I forget. I forget that you are gone and when something snaps me out of it, it hits me like a giant wave knocking me over and I can’t breathe. For just a quick second reality is reversed and you are here, and I can pick up the phone to call or text and you will answer. But that moment is fleeting and it’s not real. And my soul is crushed again. I left your cell phone connected for 3 or 4 months after you passed, I didn’t have the heart to turn it off. I was still waiting for a call from you.

So many times, during one of my fun “distractions” I would find a corner or come home and just cry my eyes out. I felt like a fraud this past year. In every smiling picture I wore a mask, every moment felt like a lie.

Everyone tried, they said all the right things, but I just couldn’t get to that place of peace in my heart. Will I ever?

I am so thankful to have good friends and family that have been there for me. To have my husband by my side through it all was a blessing. But the truth is, I’ve never felt so alone in my life and that makes me feel incredibly guilty considering the love and support that I do have.

I am trying to focus on gratitude for the time we had together but honestly, that is bullshit. When someone dies young and suddenly, it’s incredibly hard to say they are in a better place or to feel at peace.

Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you. Barely an hour goes by in fact. I see a sunset and the joy I feel is overshadowed by the jolting realization that you will never see one again. I hear a song that reminds me of you, and I know that you won’t hear it again. So, I write it in the book.

We’ve been planning our trip to Australia and as excited as I am about it, the reminder that you won’t be coming with us is foremost in my mind. It was the day we were leaving and I hadn’t even packed. I was in denial. The trip didn’t feel ‘real’ to me. I had many excuses like work and being busy with other things, but the bottom line is that I am sad. Sad that you aren’t coming with us. And guilty. I feel guilty to be excited about this trip when you should be with us. That was your dream trip, Australia and New Zealand and we had always planned to go together. One of the many things that the pandemic robbed you of. So, I will write in the book as I experience every moment of that trip and hope that it will feel like you are with me in some way.

I’ve had a lot of loss in my life, as most people have. My parents, family, friends that have left us way too young, our beloved dog Louie of 15 years, but nothing has impacted me like this. This has rocked me to my very core and I am forever changed. I will never quite feel the same way I did before, and I will never look at the world the same.

This book has many chapters of our lives we lived so well. But our story wasn’t over, there was so much more to tell.

I could fill a million pages. I will write this book until the day I die. I will forever tell the story of the brothers, you and I.