Friday, June 04, 2010

no more hellos

On the train I saw a young man that looked like my brother. Shock, then sickening hope followed by a forced numbness—the same nauseating drill. I repeatedly tried not to look at him, to not think that thought. And, of course, I hated him.

I hated his face that echoed my brother’s sharp features. I wanted to punch in his gnarly teeth because they weren’t braces-straight. His lack of style was repulsive to me, and his clothes didn’t hide the body that was not my brother’s strong, young one. I hated him for existing when my brother doesn’t. I moved my seat so I wouldn’t have to see him, but I couldn’t get away from his (thankfully) New York-accented voice, saying stupid things, my beautiful, dead brother would never say.

On nights like this, I want to kill that part of me that is always searching for him because it will always be treacherous, waiting to ambush me.


Sara said...

I'm sending you a hug, girly!

Grimalkin Press said...

strong voice here

Judith said...

Yes. the momentary suspension of reality, when you think you see someone you love dearly, someone who is gone. The split second after, when your stomach turns and you remember, and the grief rushes in to every sense you possess.