Remembering . . .

Twenty years ago tomorrow, August 12, 1993, my family's world was rocked to its core. We received news that my brother, Brent, had been killed during one of the worst decisions of his life. He was 20 years old. I was 11 years old.

 I can remember receiving the news like it was today. I was in California visiting my two other brothers, Todd and Mark. I was with Mark when we received the news. My mom called very late at night. Even though I knew it was her that called Mark did not share the news until the following morning. I am sure that was one of the many hard things Mark, 24 years old, had to do for his family. He seemed to be the strong one in the midst of it all, from an 11 year old's perspective. He took the trip to Phoenix, AZ to gather Brent's few remaining possessions and wrap up other loose ends.
I took my very first ride in a convertible driven my Mark's friend, Robert, through the California landscape from Palm Springs to San Diego. San Diego was Todd's home. I remember pulling up the house. Todd came out to the driveway to meet us. It was the most awkward moment. We weren't sure what to say so we just hugged.
The next 24 hours Todd, 27 years old, spent hours on the phone talking to our parents, airlines, friends, family members, etc. He spent 24 hours retelling the few details that we knew. He relived the news because he was trying to get to our family's home, Cheyenne, WY. We spent time in the airport trying to get on a flight home. I do not remember how long we were there or what kind of plane we were on, but I was in First Class. That was the first and only time I have had that privilege. I do remember the shock in the flight attendant's and other passenger's faces when I shared the reason I was on that plane. At 11 I had no idea that there was news that should be shared and news that should not be shared. Todd was sitting in Coach.
Once we all gathered in Cheyenne we were surrounded by our own grief as well as all others grief who had heard of Brent's death. My family seemed to be functioning even more as individuals than our normal. This was not a situation that brought us closer as a family.

As I reflect on the last 20 years I cannot believe that it has been so long. In the beginning some days were easier than others. After time, months would be easier than others and now it is years that are easier than others. At some point the pain becomes the normal . . . the loss becomes the normal . . . the longing becomes the normal . . . and life without him became the normal.
Sure, a lot of memories and sounds have faded over the years. I wish that wasn't the reality. Just because something is normal does not mean that it isn't at the front of my mind. There are many days that I think of him. His personality, his laughter, his smile, his love of life, his love of acting, his gift, but not love of singing, his love of sign language, and so much more are infused in my everyday life.
As I reflect on the last twenty years there is so much that he has missed. He has missed my junior high and high school years, my parents divorce, his brother's weddings, the birth of his niece, an avid softball player, and three nephews, one that looks a lot like him, one that loves football, and one that has a deep love of acting, Gary joining our family, my graduation from college, twice, giving me advice about life and love, my wedding, my choice of career, living each day without a parent and most recently his newest niece, Kearsta.

On the flip side I have missed seeing him fulfill his dreams of being an actor or a paramedic, or a nurse, or a flight for life nurse . . . he was still undecided at 20 (which is normal now), seeing him find a lifelong partner, seeing how he transformed from a 20 year old into a man with a full grown brain, the transformation of a damaged relationship with our dad, hearing about the purchase of his first home, the purchase of his first car, hearing about old and new friends, getting updated pictures, calling him late at night to share the latest drama, depending on him when I am in need, hearing about his vacation of a lifetime . . .there is just so much that I have missed as well. Thinking about this brings sorrow because he was so much more than what we remember of him. So much more that was left in him that we did not know about.
As this year passes it will be more difficult because twenty is A LOT. In a lot of ways my family is still rocked to the core. We talk about him often, but there is always the unspoken guilt that each of us feels. What could we have done differently? What could we have said? I don't believe my dad ever grieved the loss of him. I will be thinking of him a lot more tomorrow. I will be reflecting on how my life has changed because of him. I will be reflecting on the things I have done differently because of my world being rocked. I be thinking of the best ways possible to bring him to life for Kearsta. She deserves to know him too.