Today is September 30.
It has been four years since I lost my brother.
I still remember that day pretty clearly. Most of it, at least.
It was a Saturday. I don't remember what I did during the day, but late that afternoon, my mom called me and told me that I needed to come see Jeff. The doctors had said that this would be his last night. I think I knew that this day could be coming, but I don't I ever seriously thought it could actually happen. I mean, this is the kind of thing that happens to other people, but not to my family.
Was my brother really going to die tonight?
What is that going to be like?
What's going to happen?
Will I get there in time?
What happens next?
Is this really happening?
Is this for real?
AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!
When I got to the Hospice facility that Jeff was living at, my parents where there with Gwen (Jeff's wife) and their three kids. Tommy and Amy and their families were coming up too, but hadn't gotten there yet. We all got to sit around his bed and just talk and laugh (yes, we laughed) and just prepared ourselves for what we hoped would not happen. We played music (music that still reminds me of that night when I hear it) for Jeff that we knew he liked. I think we were all in shock and horror at what we were experiencing. And sure enough, at 9:40 pm, Jeff breathed his last breath. I watched my brother pass from this life on to the next. It was the single most powerful moment of my life.
That week was just surreal. We all took the week off from our jobs and prepared for the funeral. Calling hours were kind of exhausting (there were soooo many people who came out) but they were actually kind of fun. Just like Jeff would have wanted it, I'm sure. The funeral was weird. Everyone said it was a great funeral, as far as funerals go. But I found myself several times just sort of taking a mental step backwards and asking myself, "Is this for real? Is that really my brother in the casket in front of me? Am I really up on stage speaking at my brother's funeral?" At the end of the funeral the preacher asked the family to leave first. I couldn't believe that I actually qualified to leave for that. I mean, that must mean that this is MY family involved. Moments like that still stick with me.
It is still kind of weird to go the cemetery and see Jeff's grave. It took a while before he actually had a headstone at his grave. And the first time I saw it in place it was kind of like a punch in the gut. I saw his name there. It was for real. And not only was his name there, but it was MY name too. That was MY last name staring at me. That last name should not be at the cemetery. Jeff should be at his house with Gwen and the kids. I wanted to yell at him to wake up and go home! Jeff, what are you doing here? We need you back!
I guess over time you do get used to the fact that someone is gone. Not that you like it or even get over it. But you accept it and try to move forward. But as time goes on I realize how much I feel like we all lost. Jeff really was a good guy. I know that everyone says that when someone dies, but honestly, he was. I don't even remember Jeff ever getting in trouble when he was a kid. Everyone liked him. I still run into some of Jeff's former students (he was a sixth grade teacher for a long time) who say that he was their favorite teacher ever. I miss having a brother like that. I miss sharing my life with his. I miss having someone looking out for me like that in a way that only a brother can do.
I don't know if I really have a point in all this. I just felt like sharing it. And since it's my blog... I can do that.
I want to share a couple of things that some of you may have already read. I wrote both of these some time ago, but I want to post them here in honor of today.
The first is the tribute that I wrote and read at the funeral.
The second is something that I wrote about two years later.
They are both posted below.
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