A Sibling - Anna's Grief

"No, Charles, no!"  Apparently those were the words I uttered on June 1, 2019, the night my brother, Charlie, called to tell us the terrible news, he later told me.  "Mark is dead," he said.  I do remember falling to my knees in agony.  I do remember the terrible noise my father made as he came down the stairs, holding the phone.  I do remember holding my mother as she sobbed and screamed, "No, not Mark."  Many of the days after my youngest brother's death have been a blur, but as I look back there are certain things I can recall with clarity.  Calling one of my aunt's to tell her of the sad news remains clear.  Picking out and ironing Mark's burial clothes, finding pictures for the calling hours and service and picking out songs for his remembrance DVD, these moments are clear.

I also remember the pained expression on Charlie's face as he explained and showed our parents where Mark lay when he passed away.  You see, they were visiting me and my family in Delmar for a belated birthday celebration for my daughter, Jessica.  Can you say guilt?  Maybe if I hadn't decided to a have a BBQ in the first place they would have been home.  If they were home, maybe Mark wouldn't have used that day?  If they were home, maybe they could have helped him? Too many maybes...

I remember my brother, Tom's,  poem that he wrote for Mark and Abel, Mark's infant son who also passed.  A beautiful poem written as an expression of love which Tom and Michael read at the service.  I remember Tom, usually so quiet and stoic, crying as he practiced before hand.  I turned to him and simply gave him a hug.

I remember my brother, Michael, who conducted Mark's service. Not one tear.  How did he do that?  His eulogy was titled "Solidarity."  I don't remember exact words or phrases.  I was simply astounded he could stand there in front of so many people and remember our loving brother who lay so close to him.

I remember Mark.  His hands, his perfect nose and such small ears-which appears to be a significant family trait.  I remember touching his hair.  He was so beautiful and handsome.

Our father has asked us to express how Mark's death has affected us.  How do you express the agony?  The gut-wrenching pain that every day squeezes your heart?  How do you express the images and noises that you keep seeing and hearing as your parents realize their youngest child has died?  How do you express the realization that Mark will never again participate in family celebrations and events?  He will never have another birthday.  There aren't enough words to express the anguish and despair that I feel.

And the questions remains....why? Why did he decide on that day?  Was this the first time he had used in a while?  Why did he relapse? Why...of all people...why Mark?  Was his work really done on Earth that God needed him that badly? Why do I feel so much pain? Guilt?  Jealousy?  Yes, even jealousy.  I live 250 miles, 4 hours from my family.   I am jealous of the time they spent with Mark when I didn't.  I am jealous of the memories they have of Mark when I don't.  Why was I not closer?  Too many whys....

And I worry.  I worry that my family will not ever be the same again.  I know we will not, for there is one missing.  I worry that my parents and remaining brothers are so terribly sad maybe even angry.  What can I do?  How can I help them? How can I fix this pain? I have realized I can't do anything and it just sucks.  This grief, this despair isn't anything I can help, fix or even control.  We have to bear it, live with it and somehow, eventually, find our way through it.  This terrible loss of our Mark is unimaginable.

And finally I remember our beloved Mark.  Not in death but as he was in life.  Caring, gentle, funny, generous, thoughtful and so loving.  My last interactions with him were at our aunt's funeral just 2 weeks prior to his death.  I pulled into the parking lot of the funeral home and he was there outside.  I smiled and said to Doug, "there's Mark."  He immediately came over to my car,  gave me a huge hug and we chatted.  We laughed and smiled.  I will always remember that smile, that amazing smile that belonged to the man that will never ever be forgotten.