On September 5, 1998, my heart was shattered when my only sibling, my younger brother, Donny, was killed in a car accident. He was only 28 years old.
In 1981, our father left my Mom, brother and myself, and never again had any contact with us. The three of us clung to each other as we were all we had. My mother worked long hours to support us, which left my brother and I much time to spend together. He was my brother, confidante, supporter, protector.....and my friend. He adored my two boys, 9 and 15 mos. I was 8 months pregnant when he was killed, and I'm crushed that my two littlest ones will never know the wonderful uncle that they have missed out on.
Seeing the pain behind my mother's couragous smiles is torture for me. I try to be strong for her. We talk of him often, and try to remember the good times. About his off-beat sense of humor, his incredibly giving heart, and his ability to light up a room the minute he walked in. No one ever met Donny and didn't like him. He had a way of making you feel like you had been his friend for years.
There isn't a day that I don't think of him. Many people told me I would get over this. I don't want to. To get over something means you forget. I don't want to ever forget my little brother. The days are getting easier to face, but once in a while, I get blindsided by my grief. It's when I least expect it. Then the tears come and I can't stop them.
There's now a hole in my heart. It's the piece that Donny took with him when he died. It will never be filled and I've stopped trying to fill it. Now I just try to live my life in a way that would make him proud of me. I never imagined he wouldn't be here with me. We grew up together, and I always thought, we'd get old together. Thinking of my future is hard to imagine without him in it.
I miss him and love him in the deepest part of my soul. But I believe that one day we will be together again. That will be the day when I can hold him in my arms and feel his strong arms around me, comforting me once again.