more feelings & images after my bros passing...in progress... |
when a brother dies that old elm, on the front lawn, that we climbed and climbed as two young boys, has seen the seasons of our time. and that one huge limb, with nails and still one board (where i started, with him, to build 'our house'), and that long, knotted rope, still swinging, so quietly; well, now it is gone, having crashed down last winter, "heavy with snow", Dad said; and the bark has begun to grow over. to lose a brother is to die a bit; without that other, i am (somehow) less graduation pictures still hang, like ancient whispers, on the dining room wall, and dusty trophies, left behind, clutter our thoughts, as we sit and weep together, trading snippets of memories, with you (still) in the picture; we search each other's eyes in numb belief that we can, we must, fill in the missing puzzle pieces, left overlooked. to lose a brother is to feel the phantom pains of a missing limb. the basement is empty now every childhood memory scrubbed from the walls; the elm, too, is gone; Dad payed to have it removed, leaning as it did, so close to the porch, and as it was (long since agreed) too dangerous to be left unattended; and so we search each other's far away stares for clues, and comfort to lose a brother questions, like a lawyer our whereabouts at that moment... |