One year -- I think it was 2018 -- my brother asked me what I wanted for Christmas. I told him I wanted some pictures. "Pictures?" he asked. Yeah, pictures, I told him. Because I don't have many of you.
So that's what he sent me -- these three.
It has been almost a month since he died, and I am having a hard time getting into grieving mode. I spent a week with my parents, from May 13 to May 20, then came back and started "Restriction of Movement" (ROM), the Army's way of saying quarantine.
This lasted for two weeks (just ended today), and I was stuck inside the whole time. I couldn't even go outside my front door. Plus -- COVID -- the kids tele-school from home, so all of us have been together day and night for pretty much the entire two weeks straight.
It has been hard to be alone. To be quiet. To remember. To just ... be.
I find it hard to concentrate, working from home. I would like to read, but I can't focus. I have things to do, but I can't bear to do them. The only productive thing I can find to do is cook. That's not a bad thing, but there's an upper limit to how healthy that can be.
Sometimes, I envy him. While my body continues to decay even as I inhabit it, he will remain 34 in our hearts and memories for as long as we live. And while the rest of us search for a way to live with his loss, he is now completely free from such concerns.
I miss him terribly.
So that's what he sent me -- these three.
It has been almost a month since he died, and I am having a hard time getting into grieving mode. I spent a week with my parents, from May 13 to May 20, then came back and started "Restriction of Movement" (ROM), the Army's way of saying quarantine.
This lasted for two weeks (just ended today), and I was stuck inside the whole time. I couldn't even go outside my front door. Plus -- COVID -- the kids tele-school from home, so all of us have been together day and night for pretty much the entire two weeks straight.
It has been hard to be alone. To be quiet. To remember. To just ... be.
I find it hard to concentrate, working from home. I would like to read, but I can't focus. I have things to do, but I can't bear to do them. The only productive thing I can find to do is cook. That's not a bad thing, but there's an upper limit to how healthy that can be.
Sometimes, I envy him. While my body continues to decay even as I inhabit it, he will remain 34 in our hearts and memories for as long as we live. And while the rest of us search for a way to live with his loss, he is now completely free from such concerns.
I miss him terribly.
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