Tag: Brother

35

~ Henry Butterfly ~ Leave a comment

Hi, everybody.

Today’s an odd day. A good day but a sad day. 9/9/86 – My brother’s birthday. He passed at the age of 9, so quite some time ago. Today he would have turned 35. I spoke to him at his grave, “I wish I could have you as a friend.”

It hit home. I do miss my brother, or at least the “idea” of him. I was only 4, turning 5 in a few days when he passed away. I didn’t know him that well, no one did, he was only 9 when he passed. But from what my parents tell me, he was one bright light in this world.

A few times a year I do think about him – not as often as one might think. He passed in 1996, so I’ve had my time for closure and repair. However, I do think about what it would be like to have that constant contact. Have a brother there for me and me there for him. I think it’s a large reason as to why I try to mentor others and coach others – I want to be there for someone. I wish my brother could be here for me and vice versa, but that’s now how life works. Life works the way it wants to work, and it’s silly to be mad about it.

I think about what my brother would think about me. I know that “doesn’t matter” according to literally every self-help book out there, but that’s their damn opinion. I’m curious. I want to know what he would think of me, how much we would get along, how close we would be. But I don’t have that chance and neither does he. That’s OK. That’s what this world laid out for us and that’s what we have to cope with, learn from, and move through.

What the hell am I talking about now? I think my emotions are taking control here. I do miss him. Quite a bit. But I still have family, a mother and father, that mean the world to me. Today is about making sure they’re OK, not me. And I hope I do a good job at that. As for what my brother would think about me? What our relationship would be like? I know it would be good. I know he would care for me and I would care for him. Why am I asking such dumb questions, eh?

I love you, my brother. I hope to see you again.

pause

I wish you well. Try not to beat the shit out of yourself.

Story Time #1 – One Lives for Two

~ Henry Butterfly ~ Leave a comment

Hi, everybody!

I’ve been thinking, & I think it’s about time you lot get to know me a bit more. No, not my name, location, etc., but some moments in my life I believe impacted me in a certain way (neither all good or all bad).

So, with that said, we’ll call these installments “Story Time” – I can’t think of anything better right now. One of my many English professors told me multiple times to just “throw up on the page” when writing, so here it goes: My mantra explained.

The way I recall this event may be slightly different than how it actually happened. My Pops is the only family member that knows about this blog, so he may pick out some errors if he decides to read this. But hey, we can’t change our memories. This story takes place when I was four, almost five. My brother nine, & my mother & father in their late 30’s – early 40’s. I’m actually sitting on the couch in the same home this all happened. Eery, really. I don’t enjoy it much here.

I really get off track quickly, don’t I?

Anyway, about that mantra I’m supposed to explain. It’s “One lives for two”, & it’s for my late brother.

Flashback to 96′, it was a blindingly sunny day in the backyard, early summertime. Kids running, laughing, screaming, & of course, playing every single sport known to mankind. I remember my parents served pizza that day, but I couldn’t eat it. Stupid gluten. I was really mad about that. Next thing I remember is my brother collapsing in the backyard. Again, I could be misremembering, but I do remember a frenzy. Things I couldn’t understand. Things happening so fast. No more laughing. Only screaming, running, & crying. No one knew what to do.

My parents took control. One gave CPR, the other called for help. Neighbors booked it up the street to alert the cop on our block. His wife said he was too busy sleeping to come help. What a guy, right? Fuck that guy. He ended up divorced, go figure.

I stayed the night away from my brother. I stayed at a neighbor’s house. I don’t remember a single thing we did. All I remember is sitting on my bed the next day, parents slouched in front of me letting me know Nick wasn’t coming home.

Last Wednesday, my parents & I took a small tree to his gravestone. After my parents stepped away as we were leaving, I took a step back towards him. “You’re an asshole for leaving me here alone,” I said, laughing & crying. I hope he got a good laugh out of that.

I wish you well. Try not to beat the shit out of yourself.