The Person I Miss The Most
Yesterday, I read a lovely little piece from a prompt asking who the author misses the most. It was her three year old niece. I assumed the prompt was asking who we, the potential writers are missing during social distancing. As much as I want to write a sweet little piece about missing some family member. I know everyone can see through anything disingenuous I write. I’m a much better writer when I strip off my clothes and show the world all my flaws and imperfections. I don’t really miss anyone, and when I do, I fill that void by calling and talking to the person.
The person I miss the most, while sheltering in place, is my brother Kevin. When we come out of this. I won’t be able to see him again, listen to his laugh or give him that great big hug we’re all missing. In October, Kevin committed suicide. The day before his service, I suffered a stroke. I spent weeks pushing myself in speech therapy and occupational therapy to recover. I did not have time to properly grieve. Once I graduated from therapy, the process began. I did not want to start a new decade without my brother. I’d never lived in a decade without him until now. As I managed my grief, Covid19 edged closer and closer to us. And in March, we were sheltering in place. I had no idea the slow down and world grinding to a halt would include so many emotional land mines for me to find.
Our shelter in place started with finding out one of the families my brother had been very close to growing up had been hit with covid19. The patriarch contracted the virus and at 85, with a history of heart issues, I feared the worst. Each time his heart issues came up, we’d have to keep a close eye on my brother because he would get very upset. I knew, had he been alive, he’d be focusing every moment on the survival of his friends’ father. My brother suffered from mental illness, so we’d all be worried and hoping to help keep him calm and safe. This family holds a special place in my heart. Even when my brother was at his worst, they were compassionate, caring and kind. After my brother’s death, his mother reached out to myself and my mom with very kind cards and words. I felt helpless, as we all do during Covid19, and tried my best to provide comfort where I could. Thankfully, the man is fighting and our prayers are being heard.
Hearing Anthony Bordain’s voice, is always a little stab in the heart. They both died via suicide and something about him reminds me of my brother, although they were very different people. It’s the intellect, curiosity and genuine appreciation for differences. I happened upon an Archer episode, where Anthony played the voice of a chef. My husband recognized it and immediately started watching No Reservations. My son sent me an article which included a podcast of one of the last interviews Anthony gave. I heard him talk about his daughter and could hear the love in his voice. He spoke of fatherhood changing him and making him less of a risk taker because he wanted to be around for her. I believe this was just weeks before he died. Suicide, such an impossible mystery. He didn’t love her any less, he just couldn’t bear to be here. Thanks Anthony, it was an emotional bomb I needed to hear. But damn, this covid19 is giving me too much time.
My husband unintentionally caused another grief bomb. Our daughter brought something up about when we were young. My husband grabbed a box of photos from his childhood and started going through them. My husband has a younger sister. Seeing the pictures turned into a violent ache in my heart. I wish I still had my brother and I could go through my childhood photographs and smile. I saw my husband recognize my grief and pack up his pictures. I felt guilty that he probably will worry that a trip down memory lane is a dangerous reminder of what I don’t have anymore.
The person I miss the most, I won’t see once we stop having to shelter in place. But once we stop sheltering in place I will be able to fill my time with things that don’t remind me of what I can no longer hug or laugh with. Once we get through this and you can see the person you miss the most. GIve that person a big hug. Some of us will never do that again. Have gratitude that you still can, even if you have to wait.