There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of my brother, Al. I look at this photo and I can see he is almost ready to tear up from the pain he endured. Oh how my heart bleeds when I see things that remind me of him.
It may not solve all of my problems but getting out of this home that has mainly memories of death can’t do anything but benefit me. Tonight, I went back to packing. I was cleaning out the items under my bathroom sink and found a large zip-lock bag. I don’t know why I had placed it in my bathroom. Who knows what kind of thoughts I was having from the day he left this earth.
In the bag was all the hygiene I had used on him. Hair trimmers and mustache trimmers, combs and nail clippers. I almost dropped it as memories came flooding back. The tears started rolling and I realized that although I am making progress, it is still very fresh and may take months and months for me to get through this.
How can something so small bring so many tears? Because each time I did anything other than bathing I put a little more love into it. I knew I was hurting his neck when I trimmed his hair. I knew I was hurting his head as I tried to shave him. The pain I brought when I tried to pry his fingers open to trim his nails.
Love, the love that I still feel for my brother is very near and just re-living those last six months of him being bed bound and the extra care and sensitivity along with compassion are so painful to me today as I realize I can never trim his hair or nails again.
Oh my brother, my bud, as I called you; what I wouldn’t do to see your face one more time. It feels like someone just stabbed my heart with a hot branding iron. I miss you so much and I will never, ever forget you.
Who I am 