Some days there are so many things making me stressed and worried. Making me frustrated and upset. Making me feel alone and burdened.
And then something will happen to remind me about what my 16-year old brother went through the day his dad died. Or what he went through at 14 when his mom died.
And I feel like a first class idiot.
I think of what it must have been like to be him: at 14, losing his mom... his best friend... his compadré in crime. Watching her be sick and her energy dwindling away; knowing he has to say goodbye. To wait for that goodbye. To wait for the mortuary to come to pick her up and for the adults around him to spring into action.
I think of what it must have been like for him: at 16, to be pulled from class by police and social workers to be told that his dad had collapsed and had suffered a heart attack. To not get to say goodbye. To have to accompany the ambulance to the hospital. To wait for adults around him to spring into action.
And no matter where I am emotionally or mentally... I have to give way. Give him way to be bruised. Give him way to be warped. Give him way to be angry and sad. Give him way to be lost.
Because I am the adult in his life and I actually cannot imagine those experiences.
Yes,... I was on the phone from with him and my sister the entire night through while our mom was dying. When my cellphone got so warm on my ear that I had to switch to earbuds. Where I could be - at a distance - calm and collected.
Yes,... I was on the phone with him and social workers and police as they took him from school to the hospital and encouraged him to say goodbye to his father who had already passed. Where I could be - at a distance - calm and collected.
And I am the older and wiser?