I wrote this on FB, pre-blog – two years ago to the day. The feelings are still the same. Deep, to my core. The day is as beautiful as it was two years ago. The weatherman says Tuesday will be a bear. But now is lovely and the best time to share again.
Remembering the dash: My brother. January 14, 1961-July 19, 1999. Rest in Peace.
At his service when the Deacon asked if anyone wanted to say anything, I couldn’t. It was too raw. I always regretted not speaking at his service. Yes, he was troubled but I remembered good times, the best of times and that was the time to talk about them.
I wish I had shared that he walked me to my classroom every day in first grade because I was scared after a traumatic bus ride to Gevers Hall with nuns the year before (that is a funny story for another time). I vividly remember his friends teasing him but he walked me to the door despite that … EVERY single morning. When my thermos broke and there were shards of glass in my drink and he saw me crying because I was uber sensitive and stuff like that made me cry, he gave me the milk off his lunch tray going without.