Memories. Too many to fill my mind at once.
Love. Too deep to ever forget he was my brother.
Photographs. Me receiving a kiss from him at the age of 4. Another one, his arm around me in the back garden in Belgium. His joking around, warm and catchy like a summer’s breeze in Ireland. His broad smile standing at U2’s recording studios in Dublin.
How does a mother ever get over the death of her first born?
How does his only sister deal with his legacy, his children, his wife?
I do not want him gone, I need him here.
His voice a forgotten memory. I cannot recall his voice.
His treatment for the tumour in his brain on the day I heard I had 99% chance of having MS. Our brains acting out on the same side of our faces, the same symptoms I had. My illness with me forever; his treated that day.
We never fought. We never answered each other’s comments by slamming doors and walking away. We talked. We talked, but not enough.
His love and joy for his children; no man sweeter than my brother. The tears when my niece arrived, the twinkle in his eye when his son was born.
Grief, a tear in my mind when others talk about their brother. A hug I cannot feel anymore. A future we will not share anymore.
Will I ever see him again?
Will I ever hear his voice again?
I cannot recall his voice.
© WVE and Ireland, MS and Me, 2011-2013. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to WVE and Ireland, MS and Me with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.