People don’t seem to want to talk about my brother. The dead one. I have never felt grief like this. I can’t sleep tonight. I’ve been ill for a few days and have had a lot of time to think.
Mostly I’m fine. But then the thought slams into me that Boo isn’t here. The faucet of regret turns on and fill me up. Then the visegrip of pain tightens a little more. And I want to run away from myself but there’s nowhere to go so I stand still as the wave of Boo crashes over me.
Tonight I was digging through a basket of clothes, looking for something big enough to cover my ever growing body, and I grabbed Boo’s shirt. Chad was there and per our usual we were having an intense conversation. I slipped Boo’s shirt over my head and I had a strange mix of comfort and pain.
Walking into the living room, Sarah says “Roll Tide”. I told her it was Boo’s. She said as she caressed the hem of my shirt quietly “Roll Tide, Boo”.
The wave came as always but I didn’t speak of it. Enough time has passed by that people who felt the loss along side me, have moved on. I haven’t.
The last years of his life he and I grew apart. We’d go months without talking. When I realized he had a problem, I had my own to deal with. It’s been a long 4 years. I could list the things I’ve been consumed with from divorce to miscarriage, breaks ups, cancer, and cutting. I could list the things he was consumed with from a failing marriage to a very sick child, and the grind of 14 hour days. I can’t help but wonder if we’d just accepted a little more onto each of our plates what would be…