Two years

So much has happened since you’ve been gone, dear brother. Mom is in a nursing home now. She kind of lives in a nice world where most people are still alive, including you. At least most days. And Dad’s gone now, too. Maybe you know that? Or if what you and I believed is true, then I’m just talking to folks that read this, not you? You no longer exist. And yet I can’t stop talking to you and wondering what you would think about this and that. The human brain is weird, no?

Your nephew has grown a half a foot since you had to leave. He’s just 3 inches shorter than me, and should be your height by his 14th birthday. He’s liking horror movies more now and has such a morbid sense of humor–just like you. Your niece is pretty busy with her kiddos and she’s finally getting married to her girlfriend. Our sister has to have a new knee soon but still no bionics. Doesn’t that suck? And yeah, I broke my arm. That week after I did it, I imagined you here, helping me along with Larry, but also shaking your head and calling me a “klutz.” Then shuddering when I showed you the photo of the plate and screws in my arm.

So do I still miss you every damned day? Yup. And I’m trying so hard to live the best I can without you, to try new things, to live a life like you did for your first 40 years. (Well, maybe not quite as risky as a few of those years, Phil!) I know those last 9 were pretty shitty, but you lived as best as you could and you helped raise your nephew during that time so I’d say you did pretty well.

Last year on this day, the boy and I were in Boston to see the city and meet dear friends. We decided that we would try new things and live large on this day for you. This year, having one wing, I didn’t really want to go too far. So we went to Belfast and ate different foods, bought a new card game and walked the Harbor Walk. It wasn’t as exciting as last year, but it didn’t need to be. We just needed to do something new and different and talk about you. Like we do every day. It’s impossible not to talk about you since still nearly everything reminds me of you. I imagine everything always will.

I love you. I miss you. I wish you’d visit me in my dreams more often. I’ve only had two that I can remember since you left. It nearly wakes me up when you’re in my dreams because I’m so fucking happy to see you. When I’m fully awake, I’m both devastated and ecstatic if that’s at all possible.

Good night, dear brother.

I wish you were here.

Phil with my boy back in 2009

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