I don’t talk about this often but maybe today I should. I never imagined life without my brother, Gilbert. It’s so weird that he’s forever frozen in my memory as being 18 years old. He would have been 20 today. 20 years old.. an age that I took for granted. I was in college at that age, starting my career… investing in my future. It won’t happen for Gilbert.
It’s sort of weird, instead of remembering him daily (when his death was more prominent in my mind) my sadness occurs when I speak of him or when I have a memory. I hate this part of mourning (which part is there to like really). Like today, August 1st – I remember his birth. I was there to see him born.
I still remember his voice – how he would say my name to catch my attention, how he sounded when he was frustrated… I wish it was recorded to share. I just still can’t fathom his death.
I still haven’t got many photos of him up because it seems surreal. Looking at his image makes my heart feel heavy and I am always close to tears thinking about his name. I do feel like an incredible part of my life has been removed. Some sort of history lost, someone that I can’t talk to when I want to…
He wasn’t Michael Jackson but I assume death creates some sort of absence that’s felt similarly among humans so it’s relatable. He wasn’t sick when he died, his life was taken.
Death is an event none of us can escape – rich or poor, tall or short, beautiful or not – death is inevitable.
I do wonder who my brother was reincarnated as…