Tag Archive: Grief Loss and Bereavement

May 09

I Miss You, Jon

WHAT’S PLAYING: Robbie RobertsonGhost Dance

Today is not a good day.

Today is my birthday, a special day I shared with my twin brother, Jonathan, for nineteen glorious years.

Jon and I were almost freakishly close. We had our own language, our own special way of speaking without words. He kept me grounded and protected me from everyone who would do me harm, including myself.

When my brother left this earth, he took the best parts of me with him.

 

And I’m left with nothing but this tedious grief. I can’t stand the monotony of it, every second dragging into the next. Is this why people sing of love, friends, and family? So that we will pin our happiness on something as fragile as a human life?

(Yet somehow, I managed to do just that five years after Jon died, only to lose my fiancé and my child in the same week. But that is a story for another time. If I write about it now, I’ll sink so deep into the abyss that I’ll be lost for weeks.)

It shames me to admit it, but I’m more angry than sad. Angry with the man who murdered Jon for money he didn’t have, angry that God could be so cruel to let me live when my twin is dead. But mostly angry with my brother who — for the first and only time in his life — left me behind and went to a place where I could not follow. (At least, not yet.)

And after all these years, I’m still trying to remember how to breathe, still learning how to live without him. And I never feel this more keenly than on the day we entered this world together.

So you see, today is not a good day.

 

Since his death, I’ve spent most of my life just trying to be the person he loved. I’ve tried to face the world with humor, honesty, and humility. I’ve tried to do well and good at the same time. And I’ve tried every day to let my friends and family know just how much I love them.

It’s my way of honoring my brother, trying to be worthy of being known as “Jon’s sister,” living in the hope that one day I will see him again on the other side.

I know this grief isn’t good for me. I know I should try to find some kind of peace or comfort, but I can’t.

Maybe tomorrow.

 

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