Today is my brother's birthday. If he were alive, he'd be 33 years old. He'd have at least one youngster running around, maybe two. He'd bring his family down often to visit us in Las Vegas, and he'd ask me about my Amanda. Dana would be pleased with Treg's growth, and he and Maryann would have a kick-ass garden. I bet he'd buy cars at the auction to work on and resell and he'd have 'projects' strewn up and down the driveway. He'd be driving Maryann nuts!
But he's not alive. He's eternally 29 years old, and I haven't talked to or pretend-karate-chopped him for nearly four years. I think about him all the time, but not usually in a sad way. I think of him at Lin’s with that maroon apron on. I think of the grin on his face when Maryann took him skydiving. I think of how diligent he was in heading out to the lake early to get the good water. He would invite me along and teach me how to pull a skier vs. a wakeboarder.
But I rarely think of him consciously. Instead, he usually just pops into my mind at random moments and I suddenly realize he's there. I don't know why, but I just start thinking about him. But I don't think of memories; rather, I get pictures of Dana in my head. It's odd to think about someone that's been gone for so long. You stop remembering actual events, and instead remember them in pictures that you've seen. I always think of this picture first:
Most of you know that Dana is/was my 'favorite' brother - meaning we were the closest in age, in silliness, in interests, and in attitude. This is what I wrote about his death in my old blog. I miss him. I miss him a lot. I missed him the most on my wedding day. I'm really going to miss him when I have children that he won't be around to play with. But it generally hurts less and less as time passes.
I've had a few dreams about Dana, and one in particular has really stuck with me. I kick myself for not writing it down the morning I woke up and remembered it, but I estimate I had this dream last October. I woke up and told it to Josh, then I called Russ and told it to him. I'm pretty sure I told it to Maryann and my mom, and I've gone over it a thousand times in my head and remember it almost perfectly.
We were riding in the back seat of my mom's old blue car. It went Maryann, Dana was in the middle, and then me on the right. We were being silly and laughing and I suddenly turned and said to Dana, "Wait, we've had this conversation before. You're dead, aren't you?" and Dana smiled at me. Then suddenly it was just me and Dana on the side of a road (I think it was down the street from my folks' old house, near the winery) and we were standing next to a car with either the hood or the trunk up. We were talking and laughing again and as he shut the hood or trunk, I asked him why he didn't come back. "Don't you miss us? Don't you miss Maryann?" I asked him. He smiled at me again and told me that I didn't understand how great things were 'up there.' Then I woke up.
His smiles were peaceful in my dream - not creepy or weird. I think Dana is happy in Heaven. It will be so nice to see him again.
Happy birthday, Brother. I love you.
It's weird how long it's been since I've written. Written anything. Anything anywhere. I guess I did jot down a few notes here and there while I was in Hawaii last week, but nothing too profound. It's incredible where life takes us; how much it changes us without our even realizing it. We preoccupy ourselves, searching for the very things that envelope and change us while we're oblivious to their immediate presence. When will we learn to pay attention?
I presently sit in front of a computer at a desk littered with notes about various customers and their internet problems. There's a note on my monitor reminding me to call my dear friend and congratulate her on the birth of her baby girl. The note is several months old. I'm quietly playing a self-created mix of Jon Schmidt music on my DVD-rom and enjoy the flirtatious tones wafting through the air. My Dave Barry desk calendar graces the top of my desk, placed next to the photograph of my family before Penny married Greg. Behind the calendar is a picture of my Amanda in the straw hat and blue outfit and a picture of Cade, Aubrey and Ashley all pulling funny faces.
To my right is a wall, complete with hanging calendar and corkboard. The corkboard holds pictures of my new nephew and a former coworker and I. There's also the company phone list, the employee birthday list, and the map of our APs and distances we can service. I have cut and pasted on the corkboard the obituary for Faith Kathleen Montgomery - my dear friend, Jed's, only niece. She came into this world and left it again less than 24 hours later. The obituary hangs next to a picture of me and my dead brother, playing "family" with a nephew and two nieces at my other brother's wedding two years ago.
I miss him.
I spoke at Dana's funeral. He died on July 9 2003 in a car wreck. They say that when he flew out of the Jeep and hit the ground, he broke his neck and immediately died. Is it good he didn't "suffer" if it means his survivors were robbed of the opportunity to say one last goodbye? To give him one last kiss? To tell him one last joke? I wonder what he thought as he hurtled toward the ground - or if he was even capable of thinking. I wonder if it even dawned on him when the trailer started jacking around behind the Jeep that it could ultimately cause his death. I wonder if he was as relieved as I that no one else was on the road; that no one else was involved or hurt in the accident.
I wonder if God let him watch as my parents pulled up behind the wreck and saw him on the ground. I wonder if he watched and heard as my father called my sister-in-law to let her know that morning's kiss would be her last from her dear husband. I wonder if he watched, heard, and cried when my daddy called me to tell me the sibling I held closest to me had passed away an hour earlier and some 300+ miles away, leaving me stuck in Salt Lake City, powerless to comfort and unable to be comforted. I wonder if Dana hears me every night as I'm saying my prayers, begging God to let me be with him again one day.
My brother is a good man. It's no wonder God couldn't wait to have him back. Does that make God selfish? Perhaps...but I don't think so. I think it means God teaches us some lessons the hard way.
Most of you know that Dana is/was my 'favorite' brother - meaning we were the closest in age, in silliness, in interests, and in attitude. This is what I wrote about his death in my old blog. I miss him. I miss him a lot. I missed him the most on my wedding day. I'm really going to miss him when I have children that he won't be around to play with. But it generally hurts less and less as time passes.
