My family is very unusual in that I grew up not knowing my older (half)brother and (half)sister (I placed the "half" for context but must point out that from the moment I met him, "half" was irrelevant; to me he was my brother in full and vice versa). For the first 14 years of my life, I was the oldest. I knew of my other siblings but never really thought of them as being part of the family. That is until I had the opportunity to meet them. First my sister came to live with us for a while. I was in awe of her during that time. Here I had someone I could look up to and borrow clothes from and learn beauty secrets from. But then she left and we drifted apart to the point that we hardly spoke again. A short time later, my parents told me that Nick, my half brother, wanted to come live with us for a while as well. Having just been burned by the last older sibling, I was wary of bringing in another. But it was happening whether I wanted it to or not so I went with the flow. Little did I know my life was about to change and a grand adventure was about to begin. My parents, younger siblings and I went to meet him at the airport. We stood there bobbing back and forth between the sea of people coming off the flight, trying to get a first glimpse of him. And then, as if on cue, the crowds parted and there he was, walking down the ramp holding a worn orange blanket and teddy bear in one arm, a bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos in the other, and grinning from ear to ear in a smile that I would come to cherish. In that moment, my heart got a little fuller, my soul a little brighter, my world a little bigger. In that moment I learned how easy it is to fall in love with someone, that love at first sight was indeed real. It was like he had never been parted from us. He fit so well into our family dynamic, from the very first moment, that it felt as if I had grown up with him from the very beginning. I knew then that this was going to be different than the last time. This was going to be a beautiful friendship and siblingship.
For 11 years.
For 11 years, he was my goofy older brother, always protecting and encouraging me, stepping into the role of big brother like he was born to it. Which he was, no doubt about it. It was easy for me to hand over the older sibling reins because he was loving and caring to me and my younger siblings. I could never stay mad at him for any length of time; that smile of his would always get him out of trouble. He always knew how to make us laugh and bring joy to our world, even as he struggled with his own demons.
On several occasions during his first few years with us, he scared us with suicide attempts. One was so severe that he was admitted to a facility for treatment. But that was the last attempt for almost ten years. He was diagnosed with Bi-Polar disorder and put on medication. He had ups and downs through the years but he managed it and still found joy and laughter in life. The year he came to live with us after his divorce was the best we've ever had as a family. He was so happy and we were ecstatic to have him back with us. That Christmas was the best ever because we were all together, all happy and goofing around like we used to. The boys had a Nerf war and I got caught in the crossfire. Little bits of yellow Styrofoam were flying everywhere - suspiciously mostly at me - and too much for my pillow shield. So what did I do? While they were focused on each other, I gathered up every bullet I could find and hid them under the recliner. I was giddy with delight at besting them when, while laying on the floor face down, Nick picked me up by my belt loops and discovered my last stash under my stomach - then my belt loops break! I was too overcome with laughter and happiness to really care. For us, the gifts didn't matter as much as the fun we had together.
Best. Christmas.
Ever.
Since then, Christmas has never been the same. The next year he was with Jamie and didn't spend much time with us. The year after that he was gone. Forever.
At this time three years ago, we were blissfully unaware of the devastation and loss that life can bring in an instant. We lost my grandmother 13 years prior and though that was a heartbreaking loss, it was an expected loss. As much as we prayed for a different outcome, we were prepared for it, as much as you can prepare for the loss of a loved one. But it was an expected loss. She was 70 - though fairly young and I would give anything to have had a little more time with her - and had been sick for a few months. You expect to eventually loose your grandparents. You don't expect to loose a brother or son so soon in life. It was a devastating, life-changing blow to our lives, to our souls, and the greatest loss of my life.
We are still unable to find the joy usually experienced this time of year. Christmas was our family's holiday. And Nick loved Thanksgiving, if for no other reason than pumpkin pie and the seemingly endless amount of food. So it has been difficult to find the joy and anticipation that we used to experience this time of year. It was such a magical time of year, filled with love and laughter, and while the love is still there, the laughter is harder to come by.
The world expects you to move on. To live as if the pain of his loss doesn't consume us day after day. That the void his absence leaves is easily replaced. It's three years later and nothing is any easier. We go through the motions but our hearts are not in it. This year, we find it hard to put any decorations up. No lights, no stockings, no tree. And I used to love putting up the tree. That was my thing. Now, there is little joy in it.
I tried to make this year different. The few weeks before Thanksgiving I was optimistic that this year would be different. This would be the year that we'd start to get the feeling back. We would find a way to start living again. But then Thanksgiving came and it was just my mom, sister and I. The depression started again and whatever spirit I had for the season slowly withered. Now, on the anniversary of his death, it is almost non-existent.
I keep going back to where we were at this time three years ago. I imagine him still alive, going through his day, and then making the decision to end everything. How ignorant we were of the pain he was in. Of what was to come. That night we went to eat at Pizza Hut with my younger brother, sitting at a table that we often sat at with Nick. How ironic that while we were sitting there, at a place that had meaning for our family, he was walking outside, sitting behind a tree and putting a gun to his head. We went home and curled in our warm beds while he was sitting alone in the cold and rain, slumped over dead, forgotten by those in the house who didn't think to look for him.
That's how long he was out there before someone thought to go look for him. I can tell you, if he had been living with us and was missing for 20 minutes, we would have gone looking for him. Let alone four hours.
I look back at the photos of him and me and see the proof of the bond we shared. I love my mom to the moon and back and consider her a best friend, and I love my younger siblings to pieces, but it was different with Nick. I've never felt such a bond with someone. An instant and profound connection with someone. He was my big brother. There is something special about big brothers and he was that and so much more. He filled the role beautifully for me, Jeff and Taylor. Which makes his loss even more profound and devastating. For a short time we had the best brother we could ask for and then in the blink of an eye it was taken from us. With the upcoming birth of our nephew, I wish he was here more than ever. But I am grateful for the time we had with him and wouldn't change it for anything. I would rather have one day with him than a lifetime without him. And I was lucky enough to have 11 years with him.
I don't know where I would be if he hadn't taken the chance to live with family he had never met. I will always miss him and long to have him beside me but I know he is at peace, finally, for the first time in his life. How can I be sad about that?
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