Bargaining with Reality

My bad days outnumber my good days by at least two-thirds of any given week. Not to imply that "bad" means I'm crying all day or laying under my bed sheets in the dark- "bad" signifies consumption of my brother and denial. How, how is it that the face I've known for 32 years and the laughter that encouraged my own, is gone? How can the voice that volumized my own soft-spoken character can no longer be heard except for the memories in my mind? How is it that I can't touch my brother's arms or wrap my arms around a body of love? I. don't. understand.

I go from staring at his pictures to turning my face away when I see a new picture. After work today, I made myself lunch and sat at the dining room table with a setting for one- much like my brother's daily setting. I ate in silence as I peered through the windows that overlook the neighborhood street. Trees are swaying, birds are flying low as they search for a perch, cars are crusing by in search of a parking spot, the washing machine humms quietly in the garage, food is being chomped down to bits in my mouth but all I really hear is silence. Reminding silence of why I'm eating alone between work and Mia and staring at the truck in the driveway that belongs to my brother. This type of silence bears its nails into my skin and drags pain down with every scratch. It's uneasy, it's uncomfortable and it hurts. Silence hurts. I've never been this quiet in my life (although I'm pretty quiet to begin with). At least I could always count on Charley to boast into a room and fill it with white, smiling teeth and a rambunctious presence. I could count on a laughter that illuminates every soul in the room and fills it with life and love. But today, today I sat with only images in my mind that I'm afraid of losing as I age and Charley's laugher that loudly vibrates in all parts of my heart and resonates within my lonely spirit.

I'm sorry, Charley. I'm sorry I knew you were in pain and lost amongst this life and I didn't do anything but openly love you and silently fight for you. I'm sorry I didn't take action. I'm sorry I didn't know how, bounced off the now decorated walls and echoed all the way to the my brother's comfy chair in Mia's room. I tasted salt and mascara burned my eyes. Soaked the ends of my sleeves with heavy sorrow and buried my face into hands that are identical to Charley's. I felt like one of those oversized teddy bears that are much too big for a child and yet too small to absorb my weight. I look around the home I'm building and no matter how much color I tack onto the spiritual sanctuary I live in, no matter how put together my hair and makeup are, no matter how OCD I am about keeping a clean floor and crumb-free table, no matter how much I apologize to Charley...he is not returning. I speak to him as if I can convince him to reconsider his afterlife and ultimately decide that here with me is much better than existing with God. Silly me.