Friday, October 02, 2009

Ever had a day where there is shit on the breeze and you can’t get the badness of out your hair? I am having one of those today.

In my dream last night, I was by a large river, swimming in the water with family of friends. Little kids were splashing around, diving for bright fruits and fish in the water. My brother was with me there. He had a flower behind his ear and we were talking about how awful it was that he was dead—that he could only be alive in certain places, but that he would disappear when I needed him, later. All the laters. We also discussed why he had to wear a hairpiece. Wasn’t it crazy that his head was so damaged in the accident that they needed to replace parts of his black brush cut with fuzzy bits of fake?

Ha ha.

Upon waking this dream dialogue was so heartbreaking, so wrenching, that the usual daze of the morning was replaced with a blinding, grinding vision of loss. I’ve been trying to shake it all day but all the days since his death have been subsumed and I am right back there again, living that first day without him, flashed-back to my bloody rebirth into a life I never wanted to live but have to, every day, until I too, die.

Even now, I am still missing, in every sense.


Amanda said...

"Missing" is one of the worst feelings in the world, isn't it?

looka said...


Doug said...

Carrie, that is seriously the most heartbreaking thing I can remember hearing someone say.

If I were in New York right now I'd come over and give you a hug.

Carrie said...

Thanks, all.
Today is better.

Liz Phillips said...

Carrie, my brother died in a plane crash -- a plane he built -- in January. I had a dream (before I got the news) that I crashed in a small plane like his, in a forest, like he did, and a man in the trees told me my family was OK, that I could go back into the wreckage and save them. I went back into the plane and found a woman and two children, alive, scared, relieved to see me. The phone rang, Andy's wife, Dawn, told me he died the day before.

Rage is what I feel. When I don't feel breathless, shocked, sick. Nausea, shock, rage. Unspeakable grief. I can't find anything about sibling losses anywhere. A friend pointed me to your site. You said what I feel. Thank you. My story is here:

Carrie said...

Firstly, I am so sorry.
Secondly, welcome to the club.

One of the reasons I started writing about my brother is that I couldn't find a single thing about adult sibling grief anywhere. It added to my loneliness and confusion and I wanted to help. I hope you find something here that makes you feel a little less alone.

Thank you for adding your story and write me any time.