Remembering My Brother (again)
“The the only good thing about dying young is that everyone will remember you that way. All my friends will age, but in people’s minds, they will only see me as I am right now in my twenties.”
This is what my brother said to me as he took a deep hit off a gigantic water bong while I attempted an Oprah style interview with him a few months before he died, twenty six years ago today.
My brother, Michael died at twenty five from adeno carcinoma of the lung.Like any young death, it was a traumatic interruption in life. Life is filled with interruptions. We think it is supposed to go one way, but then it doesn’t. Like the weather and the tides and the currents.
My brother and I loved the water, especially the water of the Atlantic. The Atlantic Ocean can be smooth as glass in one minute and wild and tormented the next. Grief is like this. In the early years of grief, it crashes against your heart, up-heaves you. You never think you will get through a day.
The only salvation is time. And time takes its time. No acceleration, just like a Nor'easter, you have to sit tight, batten down the hatches and wait it out. Only after it passes, can you go out and…
