Today was busy.  Positive busy, but busy.

Driving to Childserve, I heard a song that is currently on the Christian radio station often.  It is about saying goodbye to loved ones with the knowledge we will see them again.

The first line to that song is “Everybody’s dressed in black”

I don’t know if this was just a way to release some of the emotions and stress I have been feeling the past month (or more) or what, but as soon as I heard that line, I started crying.  It took me back to the outfit I was wearing the day my brother died.  I can picture it, clearly.  I never wore that outfit again.  I gave it to Goodwill shortly afterwards.  For me, I just couldn’t imagine ever putting it on again.

Then my mind went to a poem I wrote about that day, a poem that incorporated what I was wearing as a detail that remains vivid for me.

And then I remembered the very first poem I wrote after losing my brother.  I wrote it very soon after, sometime between the day we lost him and the day of the funeral, because it was read at the funeral.

I won’t take the time to locate this poem now, but I believe I titled it “To My Children”.  One of the first things I grieved was the fact my future as-yet-unborn children would never know their uncle.  This is how much I wanted to be a mom, that this is where my mind immediately grieved.

And then, this afternoon, during my drive to Childserve, I imagined what the interactions would be like today, between Aaron and Kiran.  They would have yelling contests, and it would be hard to choose a victor.  They would have loved each other.  It makes my heart burst with joy and pain to think about how much they would have loved each other.  Kiran is so much like Aaron, something I incorporated into that poem seventeen years ago “Be more like your uncle, children.”  I will never have to use that line on Kiran, because his easygoing nature, his acceptance and love of all people, his attention-seeking mannerisms….he has SO MUCH Aaron in him.

I miss my brother today.  It is so strange, sometimes, when the wave of grief comes back to pull you under again.  In the midst of all the busy and all the transition and all the emotions here, now, that I am living … Today, I cried because I miss Aaron.  Because I wish I could witness what I know would have been such a special relationship between my brother and my son.

How a single thought can break my heart while simultaneously making me smile continues to be beyond my grasp of understanding.

I would never trade the joy in order to rid myself of the pain.

It’s a long road ahead, but we journey together.  Missing pieces and all.


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