Day 179: A Birthday Wish

This is a repost from two years ago. Time has passed, but the love remains.


Today is my brother's 48th birthday. It's a secret.

Not really by intention: this is a secret of passing time, not dark design. My brother died many years ago, and it was, of course, a painful loss for my family; a pain compounded by the shame and guilt that comes with a young life lost to addiction. In the years before his death, we suffered a slow dying of the son and brother we loved and remembered. It made the final end all the more agonizing for the secret, shameful relief. Too few words were said in the years following - too few words and a maelstrom of emotions. And then, somehow, the pain recedes. Not gone, never gone: simply swallowed up by the present.

But on precious days like today, you unpack those emotions: the grief, the guilt, the loss, the love; and you air them out and give them a look. You try them on to see how they fit. For me, this day draws me to my mother, who endured that unspeakable loss and still manages to be an extraordinary person; and to my children, who love each other the way I loved, and still love, my brother. I saved this story for the quiet of the evening, so that I could honor my brother with the peace that long eluded him in his life.

Tomorrow, this moment will again be overwhelmed by the mundane, a secret once again; but, in this moment, his memory is my companion, and now yours. Happy Birthday, Ben.