Brother of my Heart

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Some days we have lots to say, other days not so much. And when the universe is asking for silence, I have learned to honour that. Don’t think that I have “run” away or forgotten about any of you – it is just what is needed as well for me to grow into a, shall I say “more” being?

My husband has never met my brother, either of the two – yes I have another sibling and do not speak much about him… a story for another day. As you can guess, here within follows a page from my book…

Strangely – and again nothing is strange in my world – my younger brother has been on the “mind” of my husband…. For what ever the reason may be.

I wanted to experience the feeling of being part of a crossing over, and there I sat. The lady walked through the isles and stopped about two seats from me. She mentioned a little boy on a bicycle. It took a while for me to connect the dots, but once I did my breath got caught in my chest, my eyes filled with tears, as I saw in my minds eye the little boy on his yellow BMX racing away next to me while walking to “town”.

The message was “I never left you”, I am here, I am here for you, and when you are ready, I will rest.

When you ready – will I ever be ready to “let go”. How do I say goodbye, I do I knowingly have you walk away and “rest”. I cannot, I am weak, I want you here with me, I want to know that you guide me, that you are part of what I do every day.

The brother of my heart. The one I sat with and spoke about all the wonderous things in this world, inclusive the ugly, and listened intently to the childlike understanding of the world around you.

It has been ten years, ten long years, of waiting for a call at my birthday, waiting for a phone to ring and in your mischievous nature sing the “blue bull” song.

I “touched” you while packing up, I touched the 21st birthday card you proudly displayed on your dresser, I packed all your little “blue-bull” items, and I cried once again, hearing your voice, and singing with you through my tears.

Brother of my heart, I get angry when you “tell” Beahnca things that she could never know, and the insistent behaviour of foods “not touching” on a plate. I smile inside but vocally ask you not to do that. I see you as the little boy wanting to go to “big school”, as you were left at home, and the times I had to fetch you from “big school”. Your little brown suitcase, the skinny little legs and the proud smile you had.

You were larger than life itself, you lived, you made the world a richer place… But I remember too, how abused you were. How you were beaten, how you were traumatised, and I wish now that I could have done more… Maybe if I had kept you with me – in the far away place as you called, you may or not, be around… How will I ever know.

Guilt, maybe it is guilt, maybe there are things I need to work on, maybe I need to expand the feeling of that particular loss even more, but I am afraid of that emotion. I am afraid as it touches on other losses before you… It tells me I have not healed, it shows me my weakness, it reminds me that I am still fighting every day for simple understanding of why you left… people say you path is yours, I agree, but it never makes it any easier to accept.

I hear your voice; your number is still saved on my phone – ten years later… and some days I wish there was a way of calling you. I am saddened by the “loss” of my daughter knowing you – I am hurting with the loss I have…

Grief does not have a time limit – a mom, a dad, a child, a sibling, beloved furchildren… I know you are here brother of my heart… And I hope you understand why I cant let you go… just yet

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