I woke shortly after 4 AM this morning and thought, "We got the call right about now."
I watched the clock on my work computer turn from 9:44 AM to 9:45 AM and thought, "That's it guys. He's gone."
That was 2 months ago and while I would never expect to be fully healed after the loss of my brother, I do wonder how long it will be before the movie-like scenes stop playing in my head every time I think about him, when I'll be able to say the Our Father without choking up, or when will I be able to look at photos from that time without thinking, "This was taken 2 days before 'it' happened." I suppose I have to accept that "it" happened first, that "it" wasn't just a dark and depressing nightmare I had a short while ago. My brother died and it tears my heart out every time I remember.
I mentioned yesterday that Owen is finally sitting upright and I couldn't be more excited for him, but every time I set him up and brace for his fall I think of this photo we found while putting together photo boards for Rick's funeral. That's Rick bracing to catch ME if I fall. To make it all even a little more eerie, take note of the date on the photo: AUG '82. I was exactly the same age as Owen.
Life will never, ever be the same without him. I'm trying so hard to not let it overwhelm me. I'd rather spend the time and energy being thankful for having 28 years to know and love such a laid-back, non-judgemental, talented guy and AMAZING father. I've never seen kids who were more in love with their dad. He may not have left a big mark on the world per se, but he left a HUGE mark on so many hearts.
Thank you, Rick, for being such a great human being. Thank you for showing us that it's the little things in life that make it all worth living for.