October 2, 2012

  • October 2nd - 1986


    I'd originally put this under "private" posting, viewable only to me. After some rethinking, I've decided to allow it to go more public. Really doesn't say much, or really even warrant any comments, it's just a rambling, a trip down memory lane for me.. Just another journal entry to be 'filed'..

     {for privacy reasons, I blurred out the last name}

    On this day in 1986, one day shy of my 14th Birthday, we received a phone call. My brother, aged 19 at the time, was in a serious accident. Work-related. He worked for a Logging Company
    in N. Carolina. He and his coworkers were cutting a tree down, and unexpectedly, quite random actually, one of the branches from this large tree hit a dead tree on its way down. This tree
    came directly down on my brother's head. My Mom rushed to N. Carolina, to be at the Hospital with him. Less than 24 hours from then, my brother was taken off the breathing machines, and allowed
    to peacefully 'let go' and get his wings. Due to the major concussion he had, there was extreme swelling in his brain, and no activity found on the c-scan, he was basically 'brain dead'.

    My life seemed to 'end' that day. Growing up, my sister Tina, and my brother and I were extremely close. We had to be, due to the circumstances of our home environment. I won't go into too much detail,
    I'll spare you that much *grin* It took me weeks before I fully accepted his death. Due to the head injury, and swelling of his face/head, my Mother chose to have a closed casket. This only 'helped' me with my denial, I didn't really want to accept that he was gone, forever. My brother was always the protector of my sister and I. He took care of us. Even more so after our oldest sister moved out at 16. He would have given his life for us, he was just that 'heroic' to both of us. I always felt safe with him, I knew he loved me, and would do anything for me.

    Once he died, and he was never coming back, I had to realize that I was on my own. I didn't have my brother to protect me. I could no longer look forward to when he was coming back for us (he'd promised to save his money and come back for us - to get us out of our situation). I was alone. In some ways, I felt abandoned. Although logically, I knew he didn't leave us by choice. I was so angry. I was angry at god, I was angry at people. So many people suddenly came around, spouting off love and saying they knew what I was going through, how I felt. All I held was anger. I wanted to yell at them and say "no, you DONT know me, you DONT love me, and you DONT know what I am feeling!" I'd never seen those people before, or even knew them, yet they were family. My thoughts were, if you loved me, I'd know you, and *you* would have done something, and this would've never happened! I'd just stare at them with a blank expression, say "thank you" because it was the right thing to do/say, and then I'd run off to the woods in the backyard, and down to the creek where I would be alone. I cried so deeply from the very depths of my soul, and I threw stones, busted up branches (dead ones) and cursed the god I held responsible for allowing him to die. I cursed my step-father for being abusive, and chasing him out of the house. I blamed myself for being so weak. I wanted to die too. I didn't want to live without my brother, I didn't want to live in fear and see no way out. But I had to. I went to his room, and grabbed one of his sweaters, a light blue one with a v-neck, I remember it so well. I held it to my chest and cried. I kept asking why? Why did he have to die? Why did my step-father have to be so mean? Why did he have to leave? Why.. so many questions, and not one answer. The day my brother left, is forever etched into my memory. There was a green blanket that we always (as siblings do) argued over who was going to use it. The day he left for North Carolina, he'd taken the blanket. I remember well, standing there throwing a fit and crying because Jr was going to take the blanket. In disgust, and with a huff, he went to the van, retrieved the blanket, came back and handed it to me as I stood on the porch watching. He then went back to the van, and I stood there hugging the blanket, all happy I had it, and waved goodbye to my big brother.. Not knowing it was the last time I'd ever see him. To this day, I still have that blanket. I sleep with it every night. Although I've been told I should get rid of it, throw it away or pack it up, I refuse to do so. I will have it with me always. It's faded, missing the 'strip' it once had around the edges, and carries stains from different things, but I will never let it go. It's the last thing my brother ever gave me, and holds such high sentimental value, there is not enough money in the world to make me part with it ;)