Fourteen years ago my mother died from breast cancer.
Three years ago my brother was murdered.
One year ago I began to write letters to his murderer.
I don’t deal with my emotions.
These are the premises behind this blog. My family and I are walking in territory that few have walked. Hopefully, our club will stay small, but it is ignorant to assume there will not be new members joining our ranks. My hope is that our story can be of some help, comfort, or inspiration for another who is dealing with loss. I could easily wait a few years and endeavor to write something poignant and reflective. But, as I need help actually sorting out what I feel now, and as new things unfold constantly, it is more meaningful and helpful (to me) to begin this process now. I could keep a journal, but as an extrovert, why not capitalize on sharing my innermost thoughts with the world?
I began today because I just finished watching Dear Zachary on Netflix. It is a heartbreaking story that is worth a watch only when you have plenty of tissues (I did) and someone to hug (I did not).
I ended that film with an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the confession from my brother’s murderer. He never tried to disown his actions.
I am also again in awe of the strength of my parents, especially my dad. These are things I will expand on down the line.
Until then, don’t take memories for granted. Having you family over for dinner, being in their weddings, or even texting them is a gift you may not have tomorrow.
And as I type this, I am Facebooking a former student of mine whose mom just passed away minutes ago. Please pray for him and his family.