My brother died last week. No one is allowed to die anymore. Ever. First of all, it’s so sad. Second of all it forces you to make important and expensive decisions with irrational and upset people at a time when you just want to rest your head on your knees and rock back and forth. I loved my brother. I remember great times of playing board games and card games growing up, riding our bikes to the beach, building forts and having fun. I remember visiting him where he was stationed in Germany, and how handsome he looked in his Air Force uniform. When Kelly was one year old, Don lived with us and played with Kelly and fixed every single thing that broke in our house for an entire year. Good times.
After he married we grew apart. I felt like his wife never asked about me or my kids, but she always had problems that, apparently, my money could solve. If your spouse died, and s/he had a sister that you’d been tormenting for
months years over a PERFECTLY CLEAR WILL, would you expect the sister to pay for your spouse’s burial expenses? Or if the sister offered to pay for the memorial service, in addition to the cremation, would you insist on scheduling it on a day her husband couldn’t come? And would you schedule it some place really inconvenient (where neither of you had any relations or ever lived), so that everyone involved had to drive three hours to get there?
I’m pretty sad about being the only one left from my family of origin. I’m sad I can’t make things straight with my brother. The drama with my sister-in-law has made my grief worse. I look forward to the time promised us when there will be no more “death or mourning or crying or pain” where God will wipe every tear from our eyes.
Meanwhile, I’m in the thick of the circle of life. My new granddaughter (born the same month as my brother died) brings me overwhelming joy and has been such a comfort during my grief. This is what gives me joy: