Today does that to my family...to me.
There have been occasions across the years when this date has triggered what I can only describe as a PTSD response. And I use that term not to demean or disparage those who suffer from that. Rather, I think it helps me empathize more than ever with those who do. Jimmy's unexpected death rocked our family. Those of you who walked through that with us know this is true.
Those of you who know me and love me anyway know all too well what that traumatic event did to me...what the recollection of it can do to me.
In these days, though, I'm struck with curiosity of who he would have been. When he died I was in the last months being 39...now, I'm ever closer to being 52.
He'd be 46...father to an impressive young man.
Most of Jimmy's adulthood he struggled to figure out who he was and what he was supposed to be. I can only imagine that at 46 he would have found it.
While there is joy in remembering my little brother today, there's sadness, too.
Most of our adult lives together, Jimmy and I struggled to figure out how what our relationship as brothers would look like. I grieve deeply having never done all I could then to work toward that. I take it as grace that the gift of imagination of what would be now serves as healing balm for the pain of what wasn't and could never be.
Today my family's scars will likely throb a bit. As you have all along just hold onto us and love us through it.