Loss.

Musings on losing my little brother.

When a child loses their parents, they are orphans. When a wife loses her husband, she is a widow. When a husband loses his wife, he is a widower. When a branch loses its leaves it is simply a branch, and when a flower loses its petals it is a stem. A man that loses his wallet is poor, a woman that loses her job is unemployed. Many words for many losses. But none for me.

               

What is a sister without her brother? Can she still call herself a sister, when the other half of the equation has been canceled out? Can she still say she has a brother if there is no physical proof other than a night light and a baby blanket?

               

Sometimes I wake up in the morning and I expect to walk downstairs and find him in his room. I expect the crib to still be there and to hear the gentle beeping of his monitors and to see the day nurse settling herself into the plush chair while my mom goes upstairs for some much needed sleep. Sometimes I come home to an empty house and I can still hear him. He had the kind of voice that could make you feel like everything was perfectly alright, no matter how bad your day might have been. He may not have been able to use his voice much but God was it magic.

               

Sometimes when I listen to my iPod on the bus ride home and a song will come on and the first imagine the music paints in my head is his face. When the tears prick at my eyes and I have to change the song before I breakdown, that picture lingers for a while. I wonder if it’s his way of saying that everything’s ok.

               

I look at his artwork on that wall, hanging in our den that used to be his room. It is the finger-painting of a three year old boy who could barely control his own muscles but in my eyes each painting is a masterpiece. His name is scrawled on the bottom of each one, the result of the nurse guiding his jumping hand across the paper.

               

There are times when the pain is too much to take. When I sit down after a long day and look around the house and see his pictures. When I walk into my room and the first thing I reach for is the prayer card from his funeral. It’s also under my iHome, ready when I need it. Sometimes I grab my gold locket, which cradles two of his pictures in its heart-shaped frames, and put it on if only for two minutes. I stare at his picture, run my fingers along his features and wish that I was touching him.

               

Talk about him in my house can be rare, but when it happens sometimes it happens so nonchalantly I wonder if I’m the only one who still hasn’t moved on. I’m rooted in the spot I was in when he left, because I can’t live in the past but I can’t just keep moving forward and leave him behind.

                There are days when I find I can’t remember exactly how his skin felt when I held his hand, or how the light sparkled in his eyes when I looked him, or how perfect the pitch of his laugh was when he let me hear it. Sometimes I can’t remember how to work all the medical equipment I used to handle with eyes. I look at pictures and see the numbers on his ventilator and I can’t remember what each of them mean anymore.

               

“My brother’s an a*s.” “My sister hates me.” “Sometimes I think my life would be better without my sister in it.” “My brother is such an idiot, I can’t believe we’re related.” Phrases like these are used too often. They make my heart ache. I want people to see how lucky they are that they have a sibling. Sure, they’re annoying sometimes and they may swear that they hate you and you may feel that they make your life hell, but the point is they’re there. Tell them you love them every now and again. Do something nice for them. Let them know you care. Spend a minute with them, even just a second. Hold onto them, because you never know when they’re going to be gone.

               

People are always asking how many siblings you have, and I never know what to say. I want to say yes and let them know what an amazing person they missed out on meeting. But there’s another part of me that wants to say “none” so that I don’t have to re-open the wounds when I have to explain.

               

Four years ago I knew who I was. I was the sister of a remarkable, strong, special three and a half year old. Now…I’m still trying to figure out who I am without him. I’m picking up the pieces and trying to see how they fit together, hoping I can pull myself through all of this.

Author's Note

I just needed to get all of that out in the open.

Reviews

[Pillow Of Winds]

This was very heartfelt and moving, i can't imagine how painful it must feel and i commend u for having the strength to share this, i have a sister and couldn't stand losing her, am very sorry for your loss and believe me people are never fully gone, you are his sister and am sure he was just as wonderful as you describe

[Wicahpi]

Heartfelt and so amazingly sweet and sad.
So very sorry for your loss.

I have two siblings that I rarely even communicate with;
this write makes me think, yet life is what it is. Sad.

Sometimes blood just isn't as thick as water.
He was lucky to have a caring sister like you.
Next time someone asks, you raise your voice to YES!

Honor him, love him and remember that even a three year old
had the power of love and knew how to feel it.
He's around you, always.

God Bless

[xXbloodyVampire]

This was amazing to read. I want you to know you are very strong.
You're still his sister, no matter what you do.

I've never told anyone this but this inspired me to say something. You're not alone. I lost my little brother too. My parents decided to have another one. I'm not sure what they would call their second son, because he is no replacement. I think that might be his purpose, but he doesnt even know of the little boy who came before him. All i know is he could never replace what my family and I lost.

[allonsy_doctor]

This is absolutely amazing! I'm crying too, and I suddenly feel as if I could picture him in my head. I can feel the sadness and depression you felt radiating off the pages. This story is like a picture; it speaks a thousand words. I do not think there is any word I can come up with that could commend this story. This is the unthinkable best, the kind that mades you want to cry on the spot. Incredible. I'm so sorry that you lost your little brother, but I know I wont come even close to feeling your pain. I have a little sister named Julia, and shes autisic, and when people say the things you mentioned in the peom, it makes me want to break down and cry as well. This is bestly written, nothing could match it. You are amazing at gettting your feelings out! Just remember; if you ever feel sad, remember that's he's no longer suffering as he was. If you ever feel sad, you can always just talk to me. :)

[Marlena]

I'm crying. Seriously.

I miss him too, and to be honest I never say those things about Will anymore because I realized what you said in here- about never knowing when they'll be gone.

I remember the entire day it happened, from finding out to calling you and hearing you on the other end. By the way, I still think you're his sister because he's in your heart- no matter what.

[Vesa Lee]

A lump in my throat, an aching heart and a better appreciation for my own family; that's what I'm left with after reading this.
You really did let this out; I can feel the vulnerability in every word and that takes an amazing amount of courage to be this honest.
Heartbreaking and hopeful at the same time.
You've reminded us all to be grateful for what we've been blessed with because it won't be with us forever.
I needed to read this.
Thank you so much for sharing.

[Kelly Scheppers]

You will always be "his sister"...that title is your's to wear, and you must continue through this life, in a way that would make him proud. I lost my older sister years ago, and it is the most devastating loss one can experience. But you are so young, and time is very much a healer. Soon, your memories of him will warm you, comfort you, and even make you smile...but the tears you cry will always be a part of the healing process, so don't try to supress them.

I thought the reference you made of him while listening to your iPod on the bus, was very dear...and quite true! I'm certain he wouldn't want you to worry about him where he is...so he must find a way to let you know, he's ok!

This is beautifully written! I'd say you've made him proud, already!


My best,
Kelly

[Jessica R.]

This is so deep. As I was reading it I could just feel the pain and longing that you put into this. It's so very powerful.