March 26

So, I haven't been around for a while. It's not that I didn't want to post. For some time now, I've been putting off posting because I wasn't convinced that I would be able to succinctly write the post(s) that've been rattling around in my head for the past several weeks. (Plus, I'm not entirely sure that anyone is even reading this other than Mom!)

I wanted to post near in mid-March, as I noticed the first signs of spring. The timing is about the same every year, but the seasonal changes always seem to come as a surprise to me. All of a sudden, discovering sunbreaks in mid-afternoon. Carrying my jacket home, rather than wearing it. Yesterday, naked tree limbs poked the sky; now, they're bursting with pink blossoms. The clean, crisp-yet-not-too-cold smell in the morning air. The sounds of birds- sweet-sounding birds, not nasty crows- on our way to school.

I had wanted to post my discovery that spring has an entirely new meaning for me now. I had formerly enjoyed the signs of life as the earth renewed itself after each winter. But now, with each sign of spring, I am assaulted with memories of what it was like the wet morning that I went to work as usual, listening to the birds, inhaling the clean air, and carrying my jacket home after just finding out that my brother was dead.

I had next intended to post The Day, imagining a post that would detail the events and emotions from start to end. Beginning with the way I woke up, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on my chest. A morning call to Dad, looking through pictures, listening to "Derek music." When Binta came into my room to find me crying, I explained that I was missing Derek. She offered such sweetly innocent words of comfort, which only intensified my pain. She told me, "If you're good, Uncle Derek might bring you a present." When I told her that he couldn't do that, because he isn't alive any more, she suggested we wake him up.

Later on in the day, she and I visited the site of his accident. I drove along the highway in the rain, searching for visual landmarks that I could remember. After finally settling on a "close enough" location, we got out and left some orange tulips that Binta had selected from the store. She asked, "Is Uncle Derek here?" And I told her that he's not, but I know she still does not understand.

Dinner was at Bahama Breeze, with Mom, Larry, and five of Derek's close friends. I love being with the guys, because they remind me so much of him. The words and phrases they use, mannerisms, and the ways they interact with one another. It's all just so "Derek." Conversation comes easy with everyone, until it inevitably shifts to the topic of cars, in which Mom and I sit back and observe. I look around the table at these fine people, enjoying the evening together, and can't help but find myself thinking about the one person who is missing from dinner. I look at how the boys are growing and changing. John has a new job, Sean has moved, and Jeremy has a new hairstyle. I imagine the time that they will have grown so much that Derek wouldn't recognize them if he saw them, and it leaves me heartbroken.

I went to sleep feeling full and empty at the same time. I reflected on the fact that in the passing of this second anniversary of my brother's death, only one person acknowledged that the anniversary was approaching. But I received no call or card on Sunday. Initially, I had feelings of disappointment and sadness, that no one thought to reach out during this time. But then, it dawned on me. It's not that no one wanted to reach out. It's that they didn't know. The rest of the world has forgotten the significance of March 26th. For everyone else, other than the little party that met around that table for dinner, March 26th was just another Sunday. But for me, March 26 (or any 26th, for that matter) brings sadness. I will never again have the luxury of enjoying the start of spring in the same way.

So, in the weeks following that evening, up until today, I have been thinking (with much guilt) about the little blog that I had been neglecting. It feels good to have given some closure to these past few weeks. I look forward to moving on from here.