Today my brother, Mikey, would be 37 years old. I have spent endless hours over the past 30 years thinking about who he would be. About the relationship we would have. About whether or not I would be here at all. I have pondered over his life and his death. After 35 years it still doesn't make sense. After 35 years we know it isn't worth trying to make sense of.
I have written what I know of Mikey's story before. The story of his death. But, today is not about death. Today is about his life. Mikey was born on November 19, 1976. He was a healthy baby boy. With a sister who liked to make trouble. To be honest I don't know a whole lot about the little person that he was in the almost 2 years he spent on this Earth. I have to admit this is mostly because I have made up so many memories that the real ones I have been told have faded.
I know that he was happy, that his sister (not me!) once took him and his stroller and ran off in a store. I know he liked to push his little car and play a game called pass the nuts. I know he didn't speak much, except to say "quack". This is one of the reasons I fed Anna's rubber ducky love as a baby and why there is a duck on Emma's headstone.
Today on his birthday I wish I could bring my Mom and Dad a little peace. I wish I could take the pain away. But I know now that with the pain, goes the memories. One of the double edged swords of grief. To take away the pain can take away the good as well. So I will pray for peace. I will offer hugs. I will spend time with them and I will write in his memory. If I have learned anything from loss over the past 5 years it is that just remembering - simply acknowledging is so important.
Today and everyday I remember Mikey.
A little more of Mikey's story can be found here -
My "memories" of Mikey can be found here-