You Were Never Really Here?

Sometimes, early in the morning when the sun is just peeking over the horizon, I wonder if you were ever really here. Did I just imagine having a big brother, Peter, who was my world? Or are you like my imaginary friend, Peter Jack, who was never really here. Although since his name was Peter Jack, I tend to think I named him after you and Uncle Jack. Uncle Jack, who was always willing to get right down on the floor to play at my level. He was the best!

Peter Jack took care of me when I needed help or someone to talk to or play with. He never really had a face that I remember but I am very sure he was tall and handsome. He played with me whenever I needed a distraction from my exhausting life as a 5 year old. I think he was gone by the time I was about 7 and was in school full time and had actual breathing, living friends. He just didn’t come to play one day.

Oh, Kenny and David were always there also, but you remained my favorite brother. You gave great piggyback rides, made me laugh, hugged me when I cried, shared my graduation from high school with me and you drove the car that took my new husband and me to our wedding reception. You always had a good time on vacation every year during those weeks we spent at Lake George. You were the godfather to my first child, Emily May. You didn’t know this, but if she had been a boy, she would have been named Peter Jack.

You participated in all the fund raisers for Cystic Fibrosis after Emily was diagnosed. You rode bikes, danced, played auctioneer, and walked many half marathons. You don’t know it, or maybe you are watching from somewhere, but Emily is doing well perhaps because of all the money you helped raise for research.

One day in early October of 2000, while I was working for Cheshire Public Schools, the superintendent and a police officer who was a friend came into my office. The detective, Bob, walked over to me and put his hand on my shoulder. “Hi Barb, how ya doing?” He hesitated. “Pete had an accident this morning.” Bob told me later that he could see me going into shock as he spoke to me. “It was a really bad accident.” He hesitated once more. “He didn’t make it.” Bob tells me that I just kept nodding my head and saying “ok”.

My world after that statement became a bit of a blur. Somehow, I got to my brothers house to see my sister-in-law, who had just found out that her husband was killed. All my brothers and sisters stayed there for most of the rest of that day as support for her and his children. Another policeman friend brought my Dad over to be with all of us. They had sent an ambulance with the cop who told him because they were afraid we might lose him that day also. No parent should ever bury a child.

By the end of the day, we had learned that Peter had gotten trapped in a dump truck and died instantly. My favorite brother and my protector was gone.

Time dragged by as we waited to be able to say our goodbyes to Peter. His wake was attended by hundreds of people who he had touched during his lifetime. Police, Fire Department, Cheshire High School and town of Cheshire employees all turned out to share stories and memories and say farewell.

It was a very long day and the flood of tears came later that day when I said to my husband “We all took him out there to the cemetery, lots of people, family and friends, people who didn’t even know him and we left him there all alone.” That was the most distressing thought for me. We left him there all alone.

I look back on all your days … the fun, the excitement, the tears and wonder were you ever really here. It’s been so long and you are still very clear in my mind and my eyes and my thoughts. I now keep you safe in my head and heart. You will always be here!