It was a fine day. The sun. Friends. And a visit with my brother.
Otwo and Jk666 and I met for lunch. Nice long conversation. We are trying to do this at least twice per year. Had a great time.
It was a nice day - sunny and 60 degrees and I had a long drive home. I decided to visit my brother, at his 'place' on the way home. I sat on the stone abutment of the dam down by the river and poured out my heart about how much he had missed in my life since I left the faith of Jehovah's Witnesses, my fears, my bitterness over his wife's refusal to speak with me, where I am now with the whole thing of figuring out life without the script.
I cried uncontrollably for a few minutes there, remembering the last time we were there on the bank of that river. How his cremains drifted over the fast churning waters that became his final resting place. I cried that I missed him, my only brother. I cried wondering if he were still alive if he would have cut me off. I spoke to him as if he could hear me. I remembered how he loved this place. He had canoed these waters, swam them, fished them, and hunted for hundreds of hours with me by his side. He had brought his kids here to camp after he knew he was ill. One of the last questions he asked my dad was "Do you think I will ever get to camp at the river again?" My dad assured him he would, while knowing he would not ever leave that bed.
Five years ago he died - Four years ago, on a day similar to the one we had today - we said our final goodbye as I spread his ashes onto the waters. My life began to change rapidly following his death - I found out the 'truth about the truth' within months, Mom died a year later, and all my friends were destined to wash their hands of me within short order. Life would never be the same for me - changed profoundly by the loss of my brother, my only one, and the loss of my lifetime faith within months of one another.
On the path leading away from the dam I smelled a sweet perfume. Tracking it down, I found the most wonderful, fragrant flowering tree. I don't know what it is - but it's aroma intoxicated me. I clipped a few branches in memory of my brother. I have placed them in water to see if I can make them root. As I snapped off the twigs, a thorn from a branch impaled itself into my thumb. It made me think of how my relationship with my brother was both thorny and sweet over those 46 years of his shortened life. I miss him every day. I hope it grows.
Sometimes it is good to cry.
It was a fine day. The sun. Friends. And a visit with my brother.
Jeff