The Dreaded Anniversary

Last Sunday was the anniversary of my brother Luke's death.

A motorcycle accident, a Friday evening, him coming home (we had lived together in a house overlooking the ocean in Santa Barbara, CA) for a BBQ we were having with friends. Later that night, we were all going down to see his band's gig in Ventura. Instead, everyone ended up at the hospital, and then back at our house, taking turns sitting next to me, holding my hands.

Seven years.

How can it be that long? That whole life--living by the ocean, surfing every day, young, and I don't know if I can say happy...we all had our struggles...but we were all together, Luke and I and our friends. Hard not to look back and see such an idyllic picture, and in many, many ways, it truly was.

Seven years.

It shouldn't hurt so much now, should it?

The truth is, it hurts less often. I don't think about it 24/7 anymore. But when I let myself think...it's like it's happening now, all over again. That horrible, horrible nightmare.

The anniversary is one time when it's hard not to let myself think. This year, actually, the worst day was a few days before. The anticipation always kills me. That's when all the tears were shed, when I felt...I mean, how can I go on? It's probably such a long, long time until I die, until there is any kind of peace with all this.

And then...there are babies. For the first time. The happy ending to another trauma, right on the heels of losing my brother: the whole five years of a mess that was us trying to have a baby.

The twins help ease the pain, no question. But in that they add some things to the "good things that have happened to me" column, help to balance life out, so it doesn't look so much like it's just sorrow after sorrow after sorrow. They help. But they don't take away the pain. Or replace the huge hole in my heart.

Still. Before it happened, I was trying to think what I wanted to do on that day (the anniversary), what would make me feel better. And all I wanted was to hold those babies.

XOXO