All of the things we possess. All of the things we have lost and mourned. Tonight I sat and leafed through a book of poems by my brother. I can't ask him exactly what he meant here or there. I am left with this wonderful, sad and mysterious gift.
I treated him so badly. I cringe when I think of the things I said to him. It is easy to hate myself for these crimes. The day before he died he called me and asked me to come and pick him up so we could hang out. I was hung over and couldn't be bothered and snapped something back about him getting a driver's license. The next day he was dead.
Bitch, I think to myself. Effing bitch.
What have I learned from this experience? The line about treading lightly on people, I tried it. I got fucked. I took a chance on someone who was sort of alot like my brother. I do not claim sainthood in the matter either. The end result was a badly broken heart and beautiful baby boy. Not too bad of a deal, I think.
This magnificent boy I've been blessed with knows what makes me tick. He makes me laugh and drives me crazy at the same time. He is a little poet, constantly making up funny rhymes and songs. I see my brother in this little boy. When I look at him, I can forgive myself.
1 comment:
If only there were a rewind button, so we could go and undo our mistakes, especially the ones that haunt us, like this one. I am glad that you have balm for your wounds, your little snowflake to help you through it all.
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