My Brother Went Up to Heaven

My twenty-year-old big brother died in an abrupt, intoxicated tragedy almost two months ago and I cannot cry. I go about my life as if he still lives going about his own. Instead, his ghost hangs from a sheet in the closet of his bedroom, his body in ashes split amongst family and friends as we attempt to put the pieces of his life back together. As we, or they I should say, attempt to put the pieces of theirs back in place without him somehow. Yet I cannot cry.

My father cries, wishing he had picked up the phone that night just hours before my brother made the biggest decision of his life, to end it. My mother spends hours with my brother’s friends or buried in grief books trying to understand why he left or maybe where he has gone to. His best friends send me playlists that I cannot listen to, come visit me with plates of food that I cannot eat, and utter words of condolence that I cannot hear.

I write this because I am at a complete loss and I cannot cry. I moved to a new city last week to get away from all the noise. I moved to get away from the streets that I swear I still see him walk down, the rooms I still see him in, hear him laugh. I used to drive by his house and pretend he was in it, imagine him watching TV, smoking a blunt. I drive past his work and pretend he’s inside topping burgers and looking at the clock, wishing his shift was over.

To me, he is not dead. I organized his memorial, raised money for suicide prevention, helped arrange his funeral, and saw his body. But to me, he is alive and well and I can’t tell if that means I’m stuck or if that means I’m okay. I see everyone’s tears, see their desperate posts on social media begging him to come back. I see the unread text messages that I’ve sent him stacking up but I don’t stop sending them. Grief is a maze that I have not yet begun because the view from where I stand is far too believable to move from.

I wish I could offer some insight, it seems that when you lose someone you must suddenly have the answers for how to move forward. The truth is that some losses you never recover from, some keep you in shock for months and maybe even for years to come. I’ve learned that the people left behind as their loved ones pass on do not have the answers. All we are left with are unanswered questions, broken promises, and dreams for a future that just doesn’t exist anymore.

Day to day I am very happy. I have an incomplete family, but it’s wonderfully supportive and loving. I have a roof over my head, food in my refrigerator, and a job that I enjoy. I am attending the school of my dreams, majoring in a subject that interests me to no end. My future is bright and I am living a life that is intoxicating and exciting and full of adventure. I have no qualms with this existence except one seemingly overwhelming one. My brother is dead and I cannot cry.

I have learned that you must be proactive in your grief though I’m still learning how. You cannot let it consume you but you also cannot pretend it doesn’t exist. It’s okay to cry or not to cry and it’s okay to not know how to move forward. Death is devastating yet sometimes beautiful in a strange way. Because there is freedom in acceptance of something that cannot be changed and in something that cannot be known. It adds perspective to life as it asks you, how do we make the most of this one promised life? So I ask you now, what makes your life meaningful, how do you continue to live fully while knowing that it could end in a second? Does any of it matter at all?

These are questions that I am trying to answer, the only questions that I have that really matter about my brother's death. I could sit here all day asking why he’s gone or asking why I can’t cry or what is wrong with me. Yet I think that those questions take away from the life I’m living today. So I’ll cry when it comes, and allow the happiness to come as well. Hopefully one day it won’t be so hard to let myself just be and until then, I’ll be grateful for all of my blessings and be grateful that I had the luck to become my brother’s sister.