16 years- do I write tonight?

I’ve said it all before, or have I? And you know, it’s not like the actual DAY makes any difference. My brother is gone, he was gone yesterday when it was 15 years and 364 days, he’s gone today at exactly 16 years, and he will be gone tomorrow at 16 years and one day. So what if i took a year off from writing on his death-day? Why does it have to be exactly today. But here it is, today. And here I am, writing about it. Somehow, I can’t not.

Eric made a cameo in one of my crazy dreams last night- the dreams were all over the place- but for a moment he was there and healthy- even as the goat shearer was trying his hardest to convince me Eric did not have AIDS and did not die. And I do often have dreams where he was able to keep AIDS at bay, and live with it. Then there are the twisted up dreams where even though I know he is gone, I am still at the train station putting him back on a train to Boston.

It never changes- I always want him back. All the reasons I want him back are all the reasons I’ve wanted him back for the past 16 years. Sometimes one reason is more prominent than all the others- they shuffle, rearrange themselves- some days it is the wish that the 6 beautiful children that would call him Uncle Eric could know him- and that he could know them- I know they’ve missed a wonderful uncle- but he ended up missing some pretty fantastic kids, too. Sometimes it’s wanting to have a good snark session over our aging parents (I am soooo going to be in trouble if Mom figures out how to work her computer…). I’d like to hear the endless ribbing I would get over my farm (he, like my mother, would swear I was switched at birth). I’d like to be a bratty little sister again. I’d like to be a younger sister that he could show all the important stuff in Boston to. I’d like to go to him when I’m unsure of life and some of the changes that have happened this year- hard, scary changes, and wonderful changes I’m afraid to trust. I’d like him to be able to come to me to see if I can give him another perspective. I would love for my sister and parents to not have to miss him anymore. I wish, I would love, I would give teeth for…

If you’re new here, you can go here and here and here but most of you know all of that. Which means, you know what I’m asking- be nice to your brother or sister, or if you HAVE to call them a dweeb or pull their hair, do it gently.

Eric, I love you and miss you. Manda, I love you.

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