It has been just over six months since James passed away. On the fifth of every month, I wake up with a heart that is heavier than usual. It takes a little extra effort to get out of bed and greet Veda with an enthusiastic smile. I spend many weekends wishing that instead of having some wonderful family time, I could instead be taking the strenuous trip up to winston salem just to see James. Ofcourse, I am so happy that he is not suffering in a hospital anymore, but I just wish I could see him no matter the condition. Veda and I listen to what I consider our "Siwwy mix" on the ipod when we do our baking. What a wonderful feeling! Every song makes me take a step back and just think of the person he was and the way he lived. And by the time Veda and I have our goods in the oven, I finally have the comfort that I needed for the day.
The last six months have been hard on everybody. I think the only thing that has put us at peace is knowing that James is finally where he always deserved to be. We have all had our bad days and then our worse days. Then there are days when we can talk about him with smiles on our faces. There are days when we call his cell phone just to hear his voice again, but its never long enough. So, it usually requires a second call just to hear his voicemail one more time. There are days when Veda goes through the list of people she wants to see, just to end with "mama, I wanna see Siwwy too." Those are the days when I cry and re-explain that Siwwy is in heaven with Jesus and I miss him very much. "Mama, I miss Siwwy too." It is so sweet, but so heart breaking. Through all of the grief, we have all tried to go back to the good memories. The pre-leukemia memories. The times that we want to hold on to and remember with a smile instead of tears. Don't get me wrong, even when he was sick, he was still an amazing person to be around. No matter how pale he got, he still kept those rosy cheeks. And he was sarcastic and spiteful and stubborn as usual. He was always enthusiastic about shaving off the remainder of his hair when it started to fall off...starting with a sweet mohawk. And then later down the road he had what we called the "vinny from jersey shore hair" and we contemplated whether his bone marrow donor was black because he no longer had white boy hair. And then there were his drug-induced dances and crazy comments and stories that always kept us laughing. While we had some hilarious and loving times in the hospital, its still the pre-hospital memories that I long to remember.
One memory that has replayed in my head for the past few weeks has really reminded me of the amazing person my brother was, even when we were just kids. We used to go to a babysitter's house after school until my parents got off of work. One afternoon, we were in the back yard playing on a jungle gym that was probably about six feet tall. James, being the rambunctious boy that he was, had climbed all the way to the top when he lost his balance. He fell down and landed flat on his back. After running inside and getting the babysitter, we were in the car headed to the ER with our parents leaving work to meet us there. I was in the back seat with James laying across my lap. He was breathing heavy and crying. I was scared to death! I was sobbing and rubbing his head and obviously not doing much to console him or make matters better. In the middle of my uncontrollable sobs, he grabs my hands and in between his own sobs he keeps saying "Christa, its okay. Please don't cry. Its okay....im gonna be okay. Don't cry." He was in pain, and he was consoling me. He had so much love for me, that in the middle of his crisis, he didn't want me to be upset. Long story short, he ended up being just fine. No broken bones or anything, just a hard fall.
This story just shows the kind of man my brother was. He was my (sometimes injured) shoulder to cry on, my rock through every battle, the one person who would tell me to shut up when I needed to bite my tongue, my constant source of positive feedback, my body guard, my very own stand up comedian, my guinea pig (like putting a towel around his neck to see how long he would last...he forgot to pinch me, so I didn't stop and he fainted), and he was the little boy who would play with my ken dolls while I played with Barbie just to keep me company. My brother was my constant companion from birth all the way into adulthood.
No comments:
Post a Comment