thoughts after my brother

got to spend an evening at Penny Lane with my brother. he killed me at darts, so we moved our time outside. discussed life over a Stella, trying to talk over some loud neighbors. good to hear how everyone else is doing…October starts a new season in dealing with our mom being gone. all the dates start adding up. for example: on this date last October, this happened. my brother’s got more date’s remembered than i do — i remember christmas eve the most.

my brother’s very descriptive when he talks. his ability to explain his feelings through metaphors is far superior to mine. he explained his missing mom like a phone that’s off the hook. just that hum…long and continuous. not sharp and piercing…but dull and annoying. i immediately thought of that sound a record player makes once it’s reacher the center of the disc. that repetitive popping and crackling. after i dropped him off at my dad’s, i started thinking about something else he mentioned. something along the lines of: no matter what the reason — even if God himself showed up in our living room and told it to us — it wouldn’t make the loss feel any different. that made me think. i had the mental image of a patient in their hospital bed…not fully aware of what was going on, but being told that to save their life, their arm must be taken. they kick and they scream, but little do they know, the doctor has their best interest in mind. granted, it doesn’t explain away my brother’s comment, but it’s how i think of it. i don’t know why it all happened, but i truly believe that a loving God would not do such a thing if it wasn’t necessary. does that make it all better? hardly. but i’m compelled to find the good of the result.