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I apologize if this week’s post is a little less than…upbeat. This weekend I buried my brother.  He was just 30. I never imagined I’d have to suffer this kind of loss. It always seemed to happen to every one else around me. Someone’s sister, someone’s grandmother, someone’s son or daughter.  Not too long ago, I thought…how lucky am I not to have had to deal with such a loss.  I guess I was tempting fate, because my brother’s time was up.

It’s a feeling like no other really. At first you’re numb, you receive the message, but it doesn’t quite compute…and the realization happens that you will never, in the rest of your life, ever see this person you’ve grown to love, move, breathe, laugh, or cry again.  That realization crippled me.  We were only a year and three months apart so we were really close. At least once or twice a week he’d call, even if it was to get him in contact with my mom.  He always said I love you at the end of each message.  When I listen to it, I feel as though he’s right there.  That I can just dial up the phone and call him and he’d pick up. I haven’t tried that.  Don’t think I will.

I suppose I should have expected something like this to happen.  He was schizophrenic, and statistics show that they don’t live that long.  If they don’t go by suicide or homicide, cardiovascular disease will claim them. It’s the nature of the disease. I couldn’t imagine being in his shoes.  All the noise, the confusion, the fear…on or off the meds. He wanted so much to do so many things, but the voices…they’d win every time. Still, I love how he could find the humor in it all, even in this…I won’t forget that gut laugh…you just can’t.  I suppose I should find solace in the fact the noises are gone finally. That truly, he rests in peace, but that thought still makes me sad.

He was the only one on the planet that could make me laugh my guts out…it was ridiculous how hard he could make me laugh. Sometimes I’d laugh at something because I imagine how hard he’d be laughing. Little things just got him rolling. He was a gentle soul, truly, and I choose to believe he was placed here to show me how to love and laugh. 

I cried for days, and there are moments I feel guilty for trying to move on with my life.  Suddenly things seem mundane. I keep thinking…shouldn’t the world stop turning for just one moment…one second, to acknowledge that he no longer graces the planet with his presence?  I feel it, the tear…it feels like he was torn out of my life, forced out and I just want him back. I’d do anything if I there was that chance. I can only imagine what my mother must be feeling. There’s just something unnatural about something so natural.

I’m gonna miss him like crazy.

I’m gonna miss his blanket that he carried around everywhere. He was our very own Linus.

I’m gonna miss that gut laugh

I’ll miss the jokes and that uncanny impression of my dad

I’ll miss his messages

I’ll miss all of him.  

When someone you love dies, life still goes on. That…I find so cruel. 

I love you Glenn, always will.

I believe if he could come back for a second…he’d say, in his jokey way…

FINALLY! Some peace and quiet around here!