Today my brother would have been thirty. He was on the cusp of a new decade, a fresh start and a new page of life. It’s been ten months since he took his own life and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of him. As I look back over the time he has been gone I think of how fast it has passed; and then I think of how slow the time might have past for him. I don’t understand the demons that plagued him fully. I don’t understand the fear or heartache like he understood them. But then again, people don’t understand my fear that he needs a blanket because it’s cold outside. People don’t understand how fresh this is for me. How absolutely profound his death has been to me; and how he did it has left me staggering and nearly broken beyond repair. I could not imagine being my mom and holding him as his life blood poured out and soaked her clothes. Being the one that had to undress my mom later as she screamed and wailed that the dried blood on her was him is something I will never get over.
I think of how turning thirty held such promise for me. I felt that it was the beginning of being a settled adult leaving my “kid phase” behind. You’re old enough to know better and old enough to understand taking responsibility for your actions. My brother will always be the one who died in his twenties. That sound so young to me. It is young, the previous decade prior to his twenties he was going through adolescents. How did this happen to him? How did satan grab ahold of him so tightly that he could take his own life? I don’t know. I just know the story he could have had. I think of the testimony he one day could have given…maybe in his thirties.
I think back to his 29th birthday that I missed. I think back to his 28th birthday that I missed. I think this is where the real pain comes in. That gut wrenching feeling of loss. He will no longer age but I will and with that lapse of time will go memories that I cannot remember anymore. I was reminded of this fact as I lay in bed the other night and Travis asked me about the time that we all went to this haunted house in Fort Worth together. It took a while for me to recall it, it made tears fall down my face as I realized that all I have left of my brother, I’m forgetting.
So I’m going to sit here for a while and I’m going to stare at this screen and wish that things were different. I’m going to sit here and cry and beg God for another chance for him to turn thirty. I will sit here as it goes unanswered, because it cannot be so, hold down the bile in my throat and then I will pick myself up and move on for the day. I will bring flowers to his gravesite, I will comfort my mom, act like I have it together and I will thank God that he lived. I will thank God for the 29 years he had here and pray that John 10:27-29 truly applied to him.
He could have been thirty today.