My little brother had this essay due for school: discuss something impacted your life. He chose to write about a time in our lives where our family took a turn for the worse. We all fell apart.
Jeanine was dead (throat cancer).
Gia Gia was dead (mysterious stroke).
Our favorite priest, Monsignor Tom, was dead (Lung cancer).
Three deaths. All tragic. All sudden. 7 years later, I find out through an essay for school that my little brother still has not really dealt with it. Honestly, I cannot remember the last time I cried about their deaths. It has been 7 years; I would hope for some improvement.
My brother talks a lot, but it is always about games or some character he came up with. He never really says what he is feeling or thinking. He was so little when all of this happened that I am honestly surprised he remembers as much as he does. I think I blocked out most of it. If I really sit and think back to that whole weekend, then yes…I can recall some details, but some things are better left buried.
This essay of Jonathan’s really has me trying to rustle up some of those old emotions. I want to remember those days, those hours that I spent, lost in myself. My brother is an amazing artist and he has been drawing since…well, since forever. He has a sketchbook that goes with him everywhere, or it used to. Jeanine was his cheerleader and his inspiration to keep drawing. “Whenever I drew a picture she was the first person I wanted to show it to. She made me feel pride in my drawings and encouraged me to draw some more.”
That’s what he wrote in his essay. I don’t think I ever knew that about him. We all knew how close they were and they just connected on a higher level than any of us could ever connect with either of them. To deal with such a loss at such a young age is the real tragedy. I honestly do not know how to help him except to remind him that we all love him very much and support all of his artistic abilities. I really hope he takes it somewhere because I think it would really make Jeanine smile.
Now, he has had to deal with a sudden death again. His Scoutmaster – lung cancer. The devil is hard at work. I just hope that my brother can stay strong through this.