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don’t be afraid to be weak 20 June, 2006

Posted by silentpyjamas in blather and claptrap.
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don't be too proud to be strong

so today i am thinking a little bit about my brother. i don't really know what i am thinking about him, he is just on my mind in general. i can't believe he's not here. i can't believe he's frozen in time. the clawing black hole has gotten a little smaller or something. i think after nearly six years i am finally accepting of the past and the future. he's been gone and no, he won't be back. just thinking that, though, makes me feel kind of sick. i just wasn't prepared for that.

let me tell you. he was a good cook. we spent a lot of time up in the middle of the night. on the couch watching really crappy movies on usa up all night. sometimes if the movie sucked we'd walk up the hill to denny's (maybe a 2 minute walk if you don't have any legs) and have some late-night breaskfast food. the waiters liked us and made us aware of something called a sleepwalker. this was later put on the menu as the "appetizer sampler." what a terrble thing.

my brother often hid things in those triangular stand-up glossy dealies they had on the table pimping their latest deals. most notably hidden was the orange juice carafe. every. single. time. we had a great time. even when we were so broke that we couldn't afford a christmas tree. my brother and i went out and found a nice pine tree and detached a large and verdant branch. we put it in an umbrella stand and then made ornaments from paper by drawing "hairy chestwigs" and "buckets of beards." mom was delighted. he had a similar twisted sense of humor to mine. nowadays my sister and i are very similar, and i think a lot of that really came from losing him and trying to capture any essence of him that we had left.

he was a cool guy. i'm watching The First 48, which is a show that each week details the first 48 hours into 2 homicide investigations. i watch these shows so i don't forget.

the detectives just told someone that their son was dead. the father sat in shock, the mother, she began waving her hands in the air and making noises. i made those kinds of noises. i heard my mother screamed. he was my brother, sure, and it wasn't the same as a child but it hurt terribly. i can only imagine the pain of a mother is like a primal scream. it's biology itself shrieking in horror and pain. all the time, on this show, they have to tell someone's mama that their child is dead. this poem is dedicated to the mothers on The First 48, and to the mothers of murder victims everywhere.

i'm sorry, lady

for a really long time you took care of them

you protected them inside your body

and inside your heart

they were the pain you suffered to give them light

they were the smile you felt with your whole body

the person whose voice mattered most in a chorus calling your name

the maker of your most brilliant memories

i don't know your name and i've never talked to you

the only children i have ever lost were gone to a painful past

not yours, your shining babies, your beautiful gift to earth
the part you wrote into the play of your world

you didn't fail to protect them. the world had its way

i'm sorry lady. i wish i could hold you

i wish i could will it all to be okay

i wish i could shield you for one more moment, one more day, one second

before the lines of your legacy are erased from the pages of lineage

before you can shed a tear i am far away watching and

i am whispering with my own tears

i'm sorry, lady.

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Comments»

1. Nichole - 20 June, 2006

I can never begin to tell you how sorry I am about your brother. He sounds like he was an amazing person. I think he had an amazing sister too.

2. whiskeykitten - 21 June, 2006

cocorella… he’s a piece of your heart that you will never get back – but he will always be a piece of YOUR heart. You have the biggest, bestest heart out there, m-e-t.


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