HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Ben & I - December 1980

Today is my brother's birthday. He was born on 12/12/80.  He would have been 33 today.

All week I've thought about how I wanted to do a blog post on his birthday and say things to him that I wish I could have said over the past 10 months.

But now as I sit here I almost feel like a blank slate.  I feel like I have nothing to say and that I should just log off, hoping that maybe that flow of words will come later.

Perhaps I'll start with this:

Sunday I was reading a little article that said something along the lines of "children who know their family history feel more secure in their lives".  The premise was that children who are told stories about their parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles etc. grow up knowing where they belong and where they came from.  Also, children who know the story of their own births, the story of how they got their names and where they fit in a family are better off in society. 

Over the past 10 months I have felt that crack in my foundation.  I've said before that Ben was an "always" person for me - meaning that he was always there.  I have no memories prior to his birth.  He, along with my parents and grandparents, were people who I had never been without.  It gave me a firm foundation whereon I was able to build my identity. 

Now I feel that void.  The knowledge that he isn't there haunts me.  In some ways I feel like I don't know who I am totally.  I mean, so much is the same about me, but so very much is different.

My siblings and I at Ben's wedding

 When people ask me how many siblings I have, I have to pause and think about it.  Even though I believe that Ben is still alive somewhere, for the moment I am no longer a person who has a brother.  I just have two sisters.  Something is off in the balance of my life.  We were never a family of three children.... but we are now. 

There's a crack in my life's foundation.

Perhaps the hardest thing has been what I feared it would be.  The text messages I can't send.  The phone calls I can't make.  The visits that will never happen.  Sometimes when I think of the long future ahead of me without my brother I feel a horrible choking sensation.  I still can't quite deal with that thought.

There are pictures I still can't bear to look at.  I still haven't watched the DVD from his funeral of pictures of his life.

While I believe that Ben is still involved in our lives and cares about what we're doing, it's painfully lonely to not have him here, as always, chatting about it with me in person.

Today I'm allowing myself to remember.  To embrace the emotions on a day that I used to celebrate.  Even though my heart aches, I'm grateful that I loved him enough to miss him so much.  It means our bond was close. 

Sometimes I feel him.  I see his little half grin and I feel his love.  I'm grateful for these snippets of time in my busy life.  They are moments when I feel partially back to normal.

For those of you who haven't yet experienced this loss in your lives, I ask that you be patient this holiday season with people whose hearts are full of days past.  Be gentle.  Be understanding.  And have faith that when it's your turn, others will do the same for you.

Happy Birthday B. 

I'll love you for always.