It seems fitting that Pink Floyd provided the backdrop as I rounded the corner on 24th where my brother lost his life. If it hadn’t been for him I might never have learned to appreciate good music. It was he who introduced me to The Wall, Led Zeppelin, some of the Beatles lesser-known masterpieces, and the Who. I remember with painful clarity the first time he made me listen to Queen’s Greatest Hits on the way to Michigan: me grimacing in pain and begging for a shorter CD. I never suspected it would later become my favorite album. We used to have radio wars right up until he left for the Navy. By the time he came home, I had surrendered to the classic rock craze thinking we’d finally agree on something, only to discover that he’d started listening to country while he was away. I guess when siblings fight at home it doesn’t affect how much they miss each other later.
I’m still having trouble believing that it’s real. Because I hadn’t seen him in 10 months I’d almost adjusted to our irregular, infrequent communication. It’s hard to convince myself he won’t come walking in here with a silly grin and some redneck story to tell me. Reality is getting harder and harder to avoid though, as we acquired his beautiful dog and read over the will. The part where he left me his music collection brought a fresh wave of pain, so acute I almost couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know I could hurt this bad.
My purpose for today’s post is to thank everybody who has been my lifeline over these past few weeks. Without the love and prayers of so many of you I don’t know how I would have kept going. I don’t regret going to China but being on the other side of the world from my parents during this time was truly agonizing. I’m infinitely grateful for all of you who called, sent messages, prayed, and hugged me.
"I don't believe an accident of birth makes people sisters or brothers. It makes them siblings, gives them mutuality of parentage. Sisterhood and brotherhood is a condition people have to work at."
-Maya Angelou
