My brother

A small, black leather wallet. Used, worn and carrying the scent of the jeans my brother used to wear. A plectrum, faded by the many songs he played on his bass guitar.

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.

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18 Comments

  1. Pingback: Express Yourself | Manresa, Maine

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  4. moore314 says:

    A wonderful tribute and loving memories. He was with you when you penned those words, He can hear your voice, you just can’t hear his. Why was he put on this Earth, with Your family? I hope you find some solace.

    Like

    • Billie says:

      Thank you for your kind words. It’ll be 7 years soon but it still feels like he passed away yesterday. Lots of memories, lots of love still.

      Like

  5. All that’s left of us are memories.
    Sweet thoughts of you.
    I’ll remember all of them.
    Mostly the good times,
    But sometimes a bad one will sneak in.
    Then I’ll remember we pointed at each other, and
    it will become a good memory.
    You wouldn’t think such a small thing
    as our first snowball fight or our last one
    would be important.
    I do.
    I remember them now.
    There are things I’d rather forget,
    But should I ever have the need,
    or start to forget,
    I’ll think of those days,
    and recall the sweet memories
    of you and me and the childhood we shared.

    Written just for you.
    By Debra Bergner

    Like

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