It's another year. I hope this year brings the things I have always hoped for. Don't we all?
It's somewhat bittersweet for me this week. I'm celebrating a birthday on Wednesday. It should
be my 47th. Not a major number. No biggie. But I'm skipping my birthday this year. I hope no one remembers it. Although, I've just ruined that because I'm blogging about it. To some it may seem silly, but to me it's not. My aunt already sent me a card. She put "47" on it. I cringed.
A year and a half ago my older brother turned 47. It was a Tuesday. I remember we were in a very
busy trial at that time and I texted him that morning. "Happy Birthday, Bro! I love you." "Thank you," he texted.
Those were the last words I'd ever see or hear from him. At least I told him I loved him. He died
four days later on a Saturday. I had lost my dream job that month. My brother lost his life.
He went paint balling that Saturday morning. He loved paint balling. Man, 46 and still chasing people around and shooting them with a gun. Just like a kid. But that Saturday, after he came home, he told his wife he was going to take a shower and then lay down. Didn't feel well. My understanding is shortly after that he asked her to call the ambulance. She turned to do so. Same moment his heart attack hit him. He hit his head going down to the ground and his daughter tried to revive him with mouth-to-mouth until the EMS came. Unsuccessfully.
It's surreal how time stops when news like that hits you. I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when I got the call from my mother. In the mall, walking to pick up my new glasses and talking to my sweetheart on the phone. Call comes in from my mother that I ignored. But she calls again. "So insistent." I answered it. The words hit. The shock set in. The grief. The anger. The disappointment. The loss.
That brother of mine. My older brother. We had our indifferences as all families do. He pushed me down the canal once because I didn't get him some tea. Mad because he didn't get what he wanted. He gets to be laid to rest by my father. That was my spot. We argued over that. The little brat won that fight. Sounds morbid? Nah. He would smile. With those big, big blue eyes of his, he would smile.
Yes. I am. I'm skipping my birthday this year.
It's somewhat bittersweet for me this week. I'm celebrating a birthday on Wednesday. It should
be my 47th. Not a major number. No biggie. But I'm skipping my birthday this year. I hope no one remembers it. Although, I've just ruined that because I'm blogging about it. To some it may seem silly, but to me it's not. My aunt already sent me a card. She put "47" on it. I cringed.
A year and a half ago my older brother turned 47. It was a Tuesday. I remember we were in a very
busy trial at that time and I texted him that morning. "Happy Birthday, Bro! I love you." "Thank you," he texted.
Those were the last words I'd ever see or hear from him. At least I told him I loved him. He died
four days later on a Saturday. I had lost my dream job that month. My brother lost his life.
He went paint balling that Saturday morning. He loved paint balling. Man, 46 and still chasing people around and shooting them with a gun. Just like a kid. But that Saturday, after he came home, he told his wife he was going to take a shower and then lay down. Didn't feel well. My understanding is shortly after that he asked her to call the ambulance. She turned to do so. Same moment his heart attack hit him. He hit his head going down to the ground and his daughter tried to revive him with mouth-to-mouth until the EMS came. Unsuccessfully.
It's surreal how time stops when news like that hits you. I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when I got the call from my mother. In the mall, walking to pick up my new glasses and talking to my sweetheart on the phone. Call comes in from my mother that I ignored. But she calls again. "So insistent." I answered it. The words hit. The shock set in. The grief. The anger. The disappointment. The loss.
That brother of mine. My older brother. We had our indifferences as all families do. He pushed me down the canal once because I didn't get him some tea. Mad because he didn't get what he wanted. He gets to be laid to rest by my father. That was my spot. We argued over that. The little brat won that fight. Sounds morbid? Nah. He would smile. With those big, big blue eyes of his, he would smile.
Yes. I am. I'm skipping my birthday this year.
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