Eight

Posted by on Sep 3, 2014 in General Insanity | 1 comment

I hate the third of September. It’s the only day I actually hate. I wish September third had never been because I lost my brother eight years ago today. The rational part of me knows that even if there hadn’t been a third of September eight years ago I still would have gotten the early morning call, it just would have happened on another day. My inner five year old, however, is sure that if all September thirds were abolished, he would still be alive.

I have dreams of him, often. In those dreams he is happy and we do silly things like ride around in a bus and catch fish. I wake from those dreams still thinking he’s alive and the moment I realize he’s not is always painful. I relive that phone call again and again, trying to convince myself it was a nightmare. I want to call him. I want to hear him laugh. I want to thank him. I do not want a chance to say goodbye–never that.

I don’t think I’ve ever expressed this here, but all of my writing is because of him. Writing was his dream first. I borrowed his dream because I wanted to feel a connection with him. I fail at NaNoWriMo every year because of him and the threadbare NaNo 2003 shirt that I liberated from his room the day he died. I write quirky characters that he would have loved to read.

He introduced me to so many of the things I love that every day I am reminded of him and what a blessing it was to have him in my life. I am so thankful and I miss him so much. Today especially.

In honor of his life and his writing I’m adding a story to my Flash Fiction collection posted here that reminds me very much of him. I hope you enjoy A Mother’s Love.

-C

 

 

One Comment

  1. Thank you for sharing this with us, Coral. I didn’t know what to say yesterday, but I greatly appreciate you sharing your loss. It’s beautiful that even in such a terrible loss he inspired you to write as you do.

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