Vomit of the Mouth: Friends

I've said it before and I'll say it again: grief lasts so much longer than sympathy. Where are the people he was so selfless with and compassionate for? Where are the "brothers" who claim to be a fire community but really just used Charley's passing as PR? Where is his captain who lifted me off the front lawn and held me? Where are his social, smiling, pat-on-the-back beach goers who competed in events together? Listen, I completely understand that the majority of people move forward and may think, "Carlos is gone. Life goes on. I'm going to live with memories of him and be thankful for knowing him". I get that. I get that there is nothing to do but tuck it away and go. I get that most people don't want to revisit his loss so they stay away. But it's now as though my brother's passing is such an awkward elephant in the room. His own friends don't bring him up, don't reach out, don't say anything. But guess what? I want to hear about him, I want to talk about him, I want to know- I want to be reassured- that he is missed. Even if it's a very simple, " I miss Carlos. I'm so glad you're here". Or even just a hug. Sometimes hugs are better than no words at all. It's only been five months. FIVE. Now I completely understand why he told me that he was so disappointed in his friends, and could see who his real friends were. As do I.

People whom I thought were my friends, aren't at all anymore. And people who I never thought were, are now my closest, tangible, fearless support. I'm smart enough to know that people deal with grief differently or simply don't deal at all. But let me tell you something, if you ever find yourself on my end of the stick, you will understand how much you'll want support, love and presence. On my left hand I can count the number of Charley's friends who are unbelievably loving friends of his-not because they feel obligated to support my family, but because they truly love him and want to remain close to him. On my right hand are five of my own friends whom I can lean on, cry with, vent, love with, sort with, and just be. And if I link my thumbs, I can see how his and mine have meshed into one-just like his soul synced with mine.

Life hurts. But loss hurts even more. Death is the hardest "removal" from our cycle. Friends come and go, cars and jobs are replaceable, clothes are grown in and out of, experiences either set us back or help us spurt...but death? Death throws all of you into the air and doesn't care how broken you are when you land. When Charley was born, the world was blessed. And when he died, the world changed forever. MY world. If I could change places with him to prevent the intensity of his loss, I would. I look at my own life and see nothing. No value, no worth, no stamp of liveliness or legacy. What have I done and accomplished so that my daughter can aspire to be? Charley was my compliment. He was supposed to show Mia all the things I'm not, be the man I'm not, be her Hero and teach her everything I don't know. I was counting on him to be her greatest friend. And now she's stuck with me. Just me. Sure, I was dependent on him, but it's because he's my favorite person. I was never surprised with his accomplishments and dreams, I was simply always impressed. Continually.
During my therapy session last week I noted to the doc that I'm surprised I didn't marry my brother to which she replied, "So am I but it's because you had your brother. There was no need to seek a spouse like him". There will never be another Charley. No matter how much I try to mesh a bunch of people together---snag a corner of my Dad's handy hands, a sliver of humor from Alex, good-natured personality from Orin, a drop of James' compassion, a fistful of Hugo's positivity, an armful of Guillermo's embrace, and Anthony's weird wit....I still won't have Charley, nor will seek him out. Everyone I know and meet is inadequate and won't measure up. So I'm trying. I'm trying with all I have to keep him alive so that he never leaves me.