Ghosts

I tried to go to sleep early and to pretend tomorrow was just another Thursday. I failed on both counts. By the time I finish this, it will be April 7th and it was supposed to by my brother's 29th birthday. Instead, my brother will still be 28. He'll still be 28 next year, and the year after that as well. From now on, each passing year will mark another year without him rather than a celebration of another year with him. I realize that's a glass half empty sort of approach; but it's hard not to throw that glass into the wall right now.

Faces drift in and out, as if passing through a fog. A smile, an embrace; then grief without catharsis...

I've been thinking about my brother a lot lately, which should be unsurprising given that I thought about him a lot before he passed away. Even with the details of his life laid out more completely before me than in a good many years (my brother lived a highly compartmentalized life where he liked to control who knew what about him), I still find it incredibly difficult to reconcile his passing.

A glance, a nod, then sympathy received and returned. Questions unasked burn on in considerate silence. The fog surges and recedes, leaving new partners to take up the ritual. It takes on the cadence of a dance...

Shock and anger were the first emotions to really register, which is sad really because its been almost 2 months since my brother passed away and we still don't have a medical examiner approved cause of death. Shock and anger prevailed because of the surety that his own actions led him to this point. You don't need a doctor to confirm what your eyes and heart have watched unfold over the previous few years. By the time grief and loss even factored into the equation for me, they only got amplified by the now entrenched anger.

Generations ebb and flow; painting a life in fragments and tears. The old have seen too much. The young cringe as they receive their first taste of life's seeming cruelty. The dance goes on...

I'm at a point now where the anger still creeps up, but it's losing its grip as my primary response mechanism. Now, I really just miss my brother. With baseball season under way and spring starting to assert itself, it hurts more than I can say when I reach for my phone to call him only to realize I can't. Part of my brain still insists this is all just another speed bump and that everything can still be alright. The rest of me is left to ponder the ever insightful Jon Stewart quote "Sometimes the light at the end of the tunnel isn't the promised land. It's just New Jersey."

Faces blur. Time dilates and contracts. Only the memory of a melody remains amid the hint of a purpose, yet still the dance goes on...

I'll miss my brother for the rest of my life. I'll miss the uncle he would've been to my daughter and I'll miss the kids he never had a chance to have. Hell, I'll even miss being angry at him. But as my daughter cries from the other room, I'm reminded of what I do have. I have the memories, and the stories, and the love, and the pain. I have the story of a life and I'll be sure to tell it. I really just wish I had more to tell.

In time, the fog recedes and the dancers collapse. The ghosts of a lifetime pass on to their next dance. Another life, another song. That is, until it is their time to dance in the fog...