Grieving Night

When the dawn’s light pink begins to rise, I tend to grieve the moon. I miss the soft light of the stars, I miss the pale reflections of life. They were cold, at times chillingly lonely. Distant hopes were the bright stars, so far that only their glimmers were seen. The sun is a star drawn near. I know that it will bring warmth and give joy; exuberance even, but the night was beautiful.

I went home for my younger brother’s wedding. First the wedding; after grilling my sister- in- law (to be) at her bachelorette party; I think I like her. The wedding, however, was not easy. For as long as I can remember, David has been a part of my life; even when I did not want him there. I remember him stealing my dolls (and drowning them) when we were kids. I remember him wanting to hang out with my friends and I in high school. I remember being the only white kids in our youth groups together, and making our own cracker jokes.

We may not talk to each other regularly, but he knows me very well. I remember coming home and talking about getting an MSW and working for a homeless shelter. He looked at me and just said; “Sarah, I know that is not what you really want.” After several hours of crying and arguing, I knew he was right.

I remember the hot summer we spent at our parents’ house in Georgia together when they were gone and the AC wasn’t working (QT slushies). I remember the pineapple upside- down cakes he loved to make and the coconut curry sauce he was famous for. I remember how he loved to sing and dance around the house. Most of all, I remember not really appreciating him—always telling him to quit singing when we were crammed in the car. Quit dancing around in public. Be more practical in his house decoration ideas. I never really appreciated him for who he was.

The good thing now is that he has someone who does appreciate him—in all his artistic whims. The bad thing is that, in a way, I have lost him and I never really appreciated who he was. No, he is not dead, but he is not the same.