Today marks the 31st anniversary of my brother’s death. It was Memorial Day weekend and my brother was the first highway casualty in our state on that holiday weekend. My youngest brother’s birthday is May 23. We had all gathered at my parent’s house to celebrate. When my 18 year old brother left the house after dinner that night, we had no idea we were saying good-bye for the last time. He left and never came home.
There are no words to describe the shock and denial that followed after hearing the news of his death. Certain details of that night and the days that followed are forever etched in my brain.
It is somewhat hard to imagine, how you can miss someone who has been gone longer than they lived, someone you never got to know as an adult. But it’s true, you do. I miss the person he would have become, the family he would have possibly had. After all of this time I miss my brother.
I miss his smile, his sense of humor, his musical talents but most of all, what I miss the most is the sound of his voice. That may sound strange, but I can’t remember the sound of his voice. We have some home movies of him playing basketball and ice skating. It’s cool in a weird sort of way to watch him move with so much life. But 30 years ago most cameras didn’t have sound so I can’t hear his voice on that film and I miss that.
Death is a non-negotiable part of life. An extremely painful part of life, albeit, but a fact all the same. Today I pay tribute to my brother and the short life he lived. He was my brother and friend and I will miss him always.