Since this blog is just as much my outlet for self expression (I had to find something new now that facial piercings and orange hair won't do the job for me in my thirties...) as it is for sharing our family antics, I am going to use it today to share a piece of myself I very rarely offer to anyone (raging postpartum hormones, I'm sure). I apologize in advance to anyone in my family that can't take this trip with me, but do ask that you try.
Thirteen years ago today my brother died in a car accident. He was young, vibrant, funny, and aside from my brother, my very dear friend. For a long time I was angry, sad, and resentful. Why him? Why us? Why me? I know there is no answer anyone can offer me for these questions. There is no test I need to pass, no sin I need to be forgiven of, no peace I need to make with anyone but myself. Nor I am asking anyone to feel sorry for me, I am only telling it like it is.
Usually I let this day glide over me without even glancing at the calendar, vocalizing the date, or acknowledging the significance in my life. For whatever reason, now I feel like sharing, talking, reminiscing, laughing. I woke up today with the ground covered in snow and was reminded of how he loved the winter. How the frozen pond Rex was so eager to point out this morning would have made his uncle just as excited about hockey. That the cheesecake Nate requested for Thanksgiving is the same one he forced my mom to make year after year. I thought about how Lucy and her continuous baby farts would have him rolling on the ground laughing, that the save-the-date for my cousin's wedding would already have him stressing about wearing a suit next spring, how a shared obsession for video games would keep him and Todd captivated in the basement for hours. I remember sneaking beer from the family coolers on Thanksgiving, sharing stories and secrets on the hour long drives from home to Milwaukee (since we refused to ride to my grandpa's house with my parents after I got my license and own car), waking up early and letting him (unsuccessfully) try to teach me to snowboard on the local sled hill.
I thought and remembered and giggled all morning long, and it felt wonderful. This year I am not sad. I am not angry at anyone or anything for what happened to him, I am not afraid to talk about him, I am no longer reluctant to tell his story. Instead, I am grateful for the memories I do have of the time I had with my brother. I am happy that we spent our time together as friends. I am eager to share his enthusiasm for life and love of the outdoors with my children this winter. Most importantly, I am moving forward from any pain I've held onto for these last thirteen years and living like he would want me to live. Happily, honestly, and in the moment.
