I got a call from my Sister on Saturday morning-I could tell something was wrong when I answered. My first thought was my Mom, she has been doing well lately but my thoughts went there.
My Brother had died at 3AM the night before. I was shocked. I went over to my parents house and they were in shock-they still are. He was only 45. Heart attack they said.
My Sister got the call from my Dad and he just said your brother died, and she was freaking out not knowing which one of us he meant. My sister felt bad because earlier in the evening around 11PM he called her and she didn't answer and meant to call him back and forgot.
The funeral is Wednesday. My Dad is beside himself. My Mom is on stronger pills thanks to her doctor, he is worried about her going through all this now while she is going downhill herself.
I have a lot of great memories of my Brother-he always worried about me and told me he loved me no matter what. He was 9 years older than me and when I turned 16-17 I got drunk with him for the first time, got stoned with him for the first time, he helped to teach me to drive, worked on my cars for me so I could save money, and let me be me.
We sort of fell out for about 8-9 years when he moved to Maine, and he had just moved back a few months ago and I saw him a few times and spoke with him. So that was nice to have that. I just wished we could have had more time to get to know each other again.
I'm more sad right now more for my Parents-them having to bury their first born.
Everything else has sort of been put on the back burner.