gone from here, but within reach

As the big sister I felt compelled to share at my brothers celebration of life. I was sleep deprived, emotional and wasn't talking care of myself and in the process of sharing my story, I almost passed out. I was never able to finish my words, to share my feelings in that beautiful chapel that day in October.  I have always felt like I let everyone down, having never completed my thoughts.

 

HERE, I share my personal obituary, a letter to my late brother, Danny.

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I am not a number. I am a son, a brother, an uncle and a friend. My name is Dan. 

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Danny, you loved hard and you loved deep. You were so young when I moved away, not even 14. You were the sweetest, most caring and funniest brother. Just starting to figure out life. And then I moved across the country to make a life for myself. A life I knew I deserved. But none the less… I left. 

 

I’m sorry I wasn’t there. 

 

I missed high school, I missed girlfriends, I missed your first apartment, your first tattoo and your first car. Frankly while I was building my life… I missed yours - all of yours. 

 

I know you said this was your best life but it was robbed from you. It was cut too short. You should have had more time. 

 

More time to figure it out. More time to take control. More time to say I love you. 

And I’m angry about that. 

 

You lived your life like the captain of a sinking ship. Sometimes just barely staying afloat and sometimes lost at sea.  Always knowing there’s land somewhere but having a hard time navigating through the rough water. I want you to know I was always there, just off in the distance. Loving you just as hard from the shallows. 

 

I had to keep a wall up with a mote around my life and my heart to protect my family that I worked so hard to build. Alcoholism is scary and dark and I ran from it. I chose to hide from it and live my life in my bubble instead of having it right in my face. That doesn’t mean I didn’t answer the phone when you called. I tried to help you see a different light. I cried myself to sleep. I agonized on how to help from so far.  

 

I listened. 

 

I always told you I’m proud of you and I love you. Im not ashamed of you and I will never stop speaking your name. I won’t remember you as being sick. I’ll remember the good times too. I’ll share your story and tell people how wonderful you were despite your disease. This disease that has ripped my heart open. 

 

My love for you never wavered. 

 

Never lost. 

 

Only grew stronger as we grew older. In July there seemed to be a bottom. A moment in time when a switch had gone on. A realization that life IS better sober. But how to stay on that track? We joined forces as brothers and sisters and we came together to fight. To fight for you and to show up for you. That moment at your work when I held your face in my hands and looked into those beautiful hazel eyes and said, 

 

“there you are. I see you.” 

 

I’ve never loved you more than in that moment and I will hold that with me forever. These last two months were a gift. I spoke to you and got to know you more this summer than in our entire adult life. I will always cherish that. I’m just sad it was for such a short time. Although I feel the guilt of wishing I could have done more. The guilt that I failed you.  I know that you know we loved you just as hard and deep as you loved us. 

I promise you - that we will never stop loving. Loving you and loving each other. We will always be united as brothers and sisters to look after each other when one is down and we do this in honor of you and your life lost too soon. 

 

And that is my promise to you Danny. You HAVE brought us together again. 

 

Go to sleep my little time bomb.                                                                           Oct. 7th, 2023