The Anniversary I Forgot

 


Just the other day I wrote about my "hyster-versary" because I got an email reminder.  There was another anniversary on Sunday that I forgot about.  Actually, I didn't forget about it, I just didn't remember the day and comemorate it as I normally would, which makes me feel pretty crappy.

Last night I was watching tv in our bedroom (because that's where we have a/c and we needed a/c last night).  I landed on the final episode of Lost.  To get totally off topic for a moment (or more), Lost has got to be one of my favorite shows of all time.   I won't argue that it had a lot of flaws (and it did) and that there are still tons of questions out there, the show was incredibly moving.  It was storytelling at it's best; you couldn't help but get emotionally involved. I can go back and watch bits and pieces and just get swept away by it all.  It doesn't hurt that the actors were amazing as well, making you care about characters that normally you wouldn't give a second thought to.

Back on topic, I was watching this last episode and (if you haven't watched the show and want to here's where I'm going to spoil things so you may want to stop) and knew that Jack was going to die, but that all these wonderful characters were going to meet again in what I guess would be described as "the afterlife" and all the sudden it hit me, like the proverbial ton of bricks.  Sunday, June 2nd, had been the 12 anniversary of my brother's death.  I hadn't remembered.  I hadn't done anything.  And that made me feel awful.

Perhaps I should have cut myself some slack.  Four years after his passing, my mother had forgotten.  (https://bfthsboringblog.blogspot.com/2018/06/not-remembering.html)  Again, it's  not that we had forgotten my brother, it's just that the date crept up on us and then it was gone.

I KNEW the date was coming.  I've been thinking about my brother a lot.  However, the actual day came and went and it never crossed my mind.  So I didn't go to the cemetary like I used to.  (It used to be so easy because the cemetary was on my way to work...now I don't drive to that office.)  But I have never felt peace at any cemetary like some people do.  (I know my son does.)    I don't go to "see" my brother, or my grandparents, or my parents.  While the place is lovely, I'm not connected there.

Where am I connected with my brother?  Maybe a little bit at the shore (although that is more of where I "feel" and reflect about my parents).   As a kid my brother loved the beach.  His hair would get bleached blonde.   (So would mine, but his more so).  It was the result of his impending summer birth that we started going to the NJ shore instead of Cape Cod.  So I guess, in way, he is responsible for the family's home at the shore and the summers that we spent there starting in July 1972.  (Even though he wasn't born yet!)


 He loved DisneyWorld.  (I'm glad that I got to be the official "chauffeur" to and from the airport a couple of times.)  He loved to cook and eat!

As a child, I'd say he was a scamp.  As an adult his personality was larger than life.  He was larger than life. Once you knew him, you would never forget him.

I, of course, never will.  I may not remember the anniversary of his death, but I will always remember his birthday, the life he led and our all too brief time together.


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