I miss my brother. There's really not a more eloquent way to phrase that. It creeps up on me sometimes, that feeling of melancholy that comes from knowing I'm never going to get to hang out with Sam again. I have so far weathered his birthday, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, all in quick succession of each other. They say that holidays are some of the hardest times to get through when you've lost a loved one, and I genuinely understand how true that is.I have a feeling the upcoming months are going to be particularly hard. March was a terrible month a year ago. Sam collapsed in my apartment on March 13 - my mom's birthday. Early in the AM on March 15 - MY birthday - we found out about his condition. Having to deal with the cruel reality of the world on your birthday is some tough stuff, and nothing I ever want to have to do again.
To claim that it will be a while before our birthdays stop being tainted with terrible memories is a bit of an understatement. Still, in a way I find the timing of the whole ordeal to be a potential source of strength for the future. These dates indicate awful events, but they also serve as bookmarks - reminders - of my brother's strength during what I would consider his last great trial.
I love the Vietnamese tradition of remembering the deceased's life rather than the tragedy of their death. So much effort is placed into this line of thinking that every individual who has passed receives a "death day" on that date, where loved ones gather to throw a party specifically to remember the ups and downs of that person's life. I like that it's a celebration of life; to honor the memory of the person as he or she truly was, without feeling as though you're looking through rose-colored glasses.
There's also a great deal of drinking involved, but then again, I guess I mentioned it was a party.
I want to embrace those traditions. I have always sort of shared my birthday with mom, but now I feel like I can share it with Sam, too. An opportunity to celebrate all of us at the same time, on each of our birthdays. Growing up, most people thought my brother and I might be twins, we looked so much alike. This just seems fitting. Bust out the Vietnamese karaoke. I have no idea what any of the words mean, but I know who I'm singing for, and that's enough.
--Lee
