It has been fifteen years since that horrible day. Awakened with the sounds of dogs barking, knowing something was not right...then the knock on the door. Listening from the doorway, hearing the RCMP tell the unthinkable to Mom, a scream leaving my lips. Then a day filled with phone calls, travel arrangements, visitors, people crying that I never expected to see crying, and the piano. A day that reminded too much of days 18 months before. A day that a 11 year old should not be going through.
So much has changed since then. I have grown up, graduated high school, finished three degrees, got married, and become a Mom. So many opportunities and experiences missed that we could have had. So many what ifs and what would he have become. Yet, he is always in my thoughts, he will always be a part of everything I do, just like Dad.
I choose to remember the best things- how great a brother he was, how he always treated me with respect, even when I was bothering him. How he never made me feel like I was a nuisance, even though he was a 19 year old boy when he died. How he loved music and reading, television and movies, and our family. He took on the role of the man of the house, and did the best that he could, even though the pressure was so high. He was FUNNY. Laugh out loud, great twisted view on life that I loved. He was king of parodies and quick on the draw. He loved to mock Mom, in a loving matter, never to hurt, just to point out the idiosyncrasies. He was a good friend-loyal, caring, committed. This was evident at his wake and funeral-so many people at the funeral that the church was full and people stood in doorways, halls, the basement, and outdoors-even though it was a cold February. Some friends still call and check in with Mom occasionally-and come to my wedding. He would have been a great uncle-his nieces and nephews are missing out-but he will be remembered. They know he is in Heaven with Grandpa. I miss what we could have become-not just an older brother and his younger sister- but more equals. I miss that we never got to see him find the one, get married and have children. I miss that we never got to see him grow up. He never got to see me fall in love-he never got to meet my husband. I mourn the loss of the relationships he would have had with his brother-in-laws.
We were a family of five, then four, and now three. While I understand that their deaths were of God, and there was a purpose, I miss what we had. Most of all, I miss them.