My brother died yesterday.
I haven't been able to say it aloud yet.

We have more questions than answers right now. They're doing an autopsy this week. I don't know if that will help or not- I can't bear the idea of it.

All of my aunts and uncles came today and its all so overwhelming. People keep using ugly words like "funeral" and "cremation" and "obituary". Words that make me flinch and cry. I haven't cried this much... ever.

My friends, family friends, old friends and coworkers have all been reaching out. They all say things like "Let me know if you need anything". I can't manage to say much past "Thank you" or "please pray".

The only thing I really need is my brother, and no one can give him back.

Its all so sudden. I'm so numb and empty.

I received an email from a high school classmate today. She and I were never close; we were barely acquainted. Her brother and mine were very close friends. Her brother died a little over a year ago, and my brother was devastated. Her message made me cry. It was so sweet and heartfelt. I think its incredible that she reached out to me, a virtual stranger, because she has experienced similar loss. I don't know if I would be so kind.

We've also had some intrusions. My brother was very well known in our community. There is a lot of misinformation flying around about the circumstances of his death. The exact cause is unclear. There was an article in the paper today about it- they didn't print his name but many people know it was about him- the article is full of errors and assumptions.

Yesterday, when we saw him, he was laying on the floor with a blanket over him. He used to nap like that- sprawled on his back on the floor with a blanket over him and his feet sticking out. I would have almost thought he was sleeping except that he was so horribly still.

I can't comprehend the idea that I will never see my brother again. He'll never hug me again. He gives the tightest, most bone crunching hugs. Half of the time my nose would hurt afterward. He is so much taller than me and he hugged so hard that my face was always smashed into his sternum. He always made me feel so small and safe. Even when we weren't on the best of terms, my brother was always only a phone call away.

I don't know how to live without him.

My brother has recently removed our father from his life. In a much more confrontational, but no less painful way than I did.

He's struggling because of it. Not struggling with the decision, but with the pain and anger that accompany it. He's struggling to be financially independent for the first time; he's struggling to stand on his own feet.

I know that struggle all too well.

Part of me wants to scream "I TOLD YOU SO!" and remind my brother of all of the hurtful things he said to me when I was in his place. I want to tell him that he should have listened to me years ago. I want him to know that we could have done it together; that it wouldn't be so bad if we were in it together. I want to ask him why he didn't learn from my mistakes, experiences, pain.

But mostly, I want to shield him from all of the things he's learning the hard way. I want to protect him from the things that lie ahead. I regret that I couldn't protect him from our father. I wish I could tell him that it will be ok. I wish he didn't have to struggle.

But I can't.
I still struggle.
I don't know if it will be ok.
How can I protect him when I can't protect myself?

There is a song that my sister and I like. Its a country song. You know, one of those Pop-Country hybrids that are usually such an abomination. It is a little bit campy and a little twangy.

We call it "our song" and sing it at the top of our lungs.

Its a bitter thing, more than a happy thing, this habit of ours. Or it should be anyway. It was a bitter observation on my part that made us declare that it was "our song".

The words we relate to are the first few lines of the song. They're quick, easy to miss for every other person.

So instead of letting the words that struck us conjure up depressing images, we crank up the radio and let them fly by, away on upbeat off-key wings.

Maybe its a strange version of personal therapy. Maybe its too flippant. Either way its pretty cathartic.


Grew up on a tightrope, learned to smile
Even when I was falling down
Daddy had a hard hand and Mama always had hope
And me and my sister couldn't wait to get out
-Sugarland