It’s Been A Year

It was a year ago today that my younger brother died. I’ve spent the last 365 days wondering how this happened, and I still don’t have an answer. Everyone grieves in their own way. I grieve quietly, I suppose.

My son idolized Uncle Brandon. He would ask about him all the time. He always wanted to send him a video message through Facebook. And he loved getting a response back. He would just light up at the sound of Brandon’s voice calling him “Buddy,” or seeing Brandon’s face.

When we moved, Brandon and a friend came over and helped me load the truck. Honestly, I couldn’t have moved without them. I would have had to hire a team of movers. Brandon and his friend did this stuff for a living and they’re crazy good at it. I couldn’t have fit half my stuff in that truck. They got all but another car load that Jen went back for the following week. My son seized every opportunity he could to carry some small box into the truck and put it in the stack. Just like Uncle Brandon did. Just like Uncle Brandon.

My daughter would have loved him too. He never got to meet her.

It was a pretty common occurrence for me to send Brandon pictures of the steak or ribs that I had on the grill. He would say the messages would make him mad. I actually believe this. I make some really great ribs and steaks. And truth be told, I still find myself taking pictures of food I cook. I’ve occasionally sent them to other friends during the past year. I don’t explain why, I just send them, and make small talk about it. It’s not the same, and I just find myself taking the picture and then.. well, doing nothing with it. But I can’t stop.

My younger sisters lost their mother in 2010. Then their brother in 2018. It seems perhaps more unfair to them than to my kids. They really looked up to Brandon. I watch silently as they process this, and I just can’t imagine what it’s like. I know they’re often in pain. They say it. And I can see it.

Brandon and I had a different relationship than he had with a lot of his friends. It was just a different dynamic, and understandably so. His perspective when he was with his friends was to have fun. With me, it was deeper conversations and often more serious topics. Things that were important to one of us. Maybe that’s what made all of this so perplexing.

On my iPad, I still have the last text message I sent him. It was a year ago this evening. A picture of a blackberry, almond tart with an orange glaze. It was the first time I’d tried to make it. He just wrote back and said “Not fair.” It was the last thing he said to me.

I still think about him every day. Sometimes I feel betrayed, other times I’m still just confused. I think about the void that exists in my life, and my son’s. And my wife’s. And I think about how much my daughter is missing out by not getting to know her Uncle Brandon.