Lost
(Though we are enjoying this show, this post is not about Matthew Fox, Terry O'Quinn, Evangeline Lily or Josh Holloway. But a Lost cookbook might be fun to play with!)
I am lost.
My brother died on March 25, and I went to his wake in Dallas. I also went to see him a few days before to say goodbye, though he was pretty much ready to sail on at that point. He was in hospice - fighting pancreatic and hepatic cancer. And he won. He went out with dignity, peace and love. Too early, much much too early, but he made the best with what he had. He was in his own clothes, in his own house, holding his wife's hand, while his daughters were running errands. Shortly after he died, a helicopter flew overhead. (Long story short: he was a helicopter mechanic, later an FAA inspector for rotary aircraft.)
I made him laugh in his last days with an image that a friend sent to me. He even posted it to his internet "home" - a forum where he had some 5,800 posts over the years. I cling to that as his final thoughts about me, his Baby Sister, the chubby little drooler who undoubtedly annoyed him for 40-odd years.
His daughters came from far away (some distances are not measured in miles) to be with him, and each other. His brother came. I came. And his wife's daughters also gathered around him. His cycling friends came to him, and while we weren't always actually in his room, we were chatting and realizing that he was a hell of a guy and that even in his dying, he had brought the ragtag lot of us together.
What we make of it at this point is our own business, and our responsibility. But it does have promise. As the trees leaf out, as the greens in rainy Dallas spread and deepen toward summer, and as the fireants rebuild yet again right there where you step to get out of the car, life goes on and so must we.
But for now, I just feel lost. There are tears to shed, burials to arrange (both parents and my brother), ashes to scatter (my brother in a specified locale), and loose ends to tie. There is work to go back to, summer vacations to plan, decisions to make about the slipcover, the car maintenance and the bills. As my mother would say, there is wool to gather.
And there are blogs to read. So, thanks for reading this one. I'll be posting again soon, as food memories drift up and around (who knew catfish was comfort food to me?). But for now, my silence takes over again.
I am lost.
My brother died on March 25, and I went to his wake in Dallas. I also went to see him a few days before to say goodbye, though he was pretty much ready to sail on at that point. He was in hospice - fighting pancreatic and hepatic cancer. And he won. He went out with dignity, peace and love. Too early, much much too early, but he made the best with what he had. He was in his own clothes, in his own house, holding his wife's hand, while his daughters were running errands. Shortly after he died, a helicopter flew overhead. (Long story short: he was a helicopter mechanic, later an FAA inspector for rotary aircraft.)
I made him laugh in his last days with an image that a friend sent to me. He even posted it to his internet "home" - a forum where he had some 5,800 posts over the years. I cling to that as his final thoughts about me, his Baby Sister, the chubby little drooler who undoubtedly annoyed him for 40-odd years.
His daughters came from far away (some distances are not measured in miles) to be with him, and each other. His brother came. I came. And his wife's daughters also gathered around him. His cycling friends came to him, and while we weren't always actually in his room, we were chatting and realizing that he was a hell of a guy and that even in his dying, he had brought the ragtag lot of us together.
What we make of it at this point is our own business, and our responsibility. But it does have promise. As the trees leaf out, as the greens in rainy Dallas spread and deepen toward summer, and as the fireants rebuild yet again right there where you step to get out of the car, life goes on and so must we.
But for now, I just feel lost. There are tears to shed, burials to arrange (both parents and my brother), ashes to scatter (my brother in a specified locale), and loose ends to tie. There is work to go back to, summer vacations to plan, decisions to make about the slipcover, the car maintenance and the bills. As my mother would say, there is wool to gather.
And there are blogs to read. So, thanks for reading this one. I'll be posting again soon, as food memories drift up and around (who knew catfish was comfort food to me?). But for now, my silence takes over again.
Labels: brother
1 Comments:
I am so sorry to hear of the loss of your brother. My thoughts are with you during this difficult time. Hold onto your wonderful memories and know that your Internet Peeps are quietly standing by you.
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