Everything changes

I read a post on Facebook a few weeks back that, for some reason, has really stuck in my head. It was a short bio about a young man that died at the age of 26. It was written by his older brother and accompanied by a short video. None of the footage was taken any later than 1994 because that was the year of his death. I knew both of the brothers while I was growing up but had lost touch with both of them as we got older. The brother has now been gone for 17 years.

In one part of the video the young man is carrying a microwave oven through the house. It was Christmastime and the oven appeared to be a gift. It is one of those parts of a video that is annoying when someone is taking it of you because at the time, it seems meaningless. It is now priceless. The young man has a big smile on his face, glad to have received a gift of the latest technology. The writer mentions that his brother never sent an email or even had a pager. He missed the computer age. We changed that much in only 17 years.

We have all lost loved ones, this is inevitable fact of our lives. If you live long enough, your friends and loved ones will die. Some deaths hurt worse than others, and it seems extra painful when the one who dies is too young. But they all hurt. You start with unimaginable grief that slowly changes to reflection. From how will I go on, to what if he was…wouldn’t she have loved to….this makes me think of…..But this can be a slow process.

I’m not really sure when this happened to me. My little brother has been gone for over 8 years now, and no it does not hurt the same way it used to. It is different. My wife and I talk about him daily at home, but it is no longer my first reaction to pick up the phone and call him when something good or bad happens; that is not when I think of him. I think of him when I pay my cell phone bill; he had one before anybody I know. I think of him when I say something mean to another person; he always told me it wasn’t cool. I think of him when I pet my dog; he loved his dog more than life.

Writing this makes me sad, but thinking of him daily does not. I miss him and I would love to call him up and say, “can you believe I just….”. I don’t think (and I hope) this never goes away. I like to think when I have these thoughts he is hearing me; we are communicating. What has really changed since time has passed is that I can once again say I love to think about him.