Skip to content

He Didn’t Make It

August 27, 2010

I’ve been hesitant to write about my brother on here. Perhaps because it is just too painful or perhaps because I don’t want to read condolence comments. I’m not sure which but I think it’s time that I get a little of this pain off my chest. My brother, the one who built a home-made pontoon boat at age of 9 in my previous post, was killed in a car accident two years ago. He was only 30 years old. I was living in Germany at the time that I received the most horrible phone call of my life. My mother called me at 6:00 AM,  Germany time. This would have been about midnight, her time. I knew immediately something was wrong. I could hear the panic in her voice. She told me that my brother had been in a car accident and she was on her way to the hospital. I was shocked out of sleep and immediately panic-stricken. “What do I do? What do I do?” I began pacing the floor. I told her to call me back as soon as she reached the hospital.

I had some very close and dear friends during my time in Germany and was fortunate that these people lived just above and below me. I raced to Jenna’s apartment below. Luckily her door was not locked and I was able to storm in and wake her up for support. She immediately notified my friend above me and within minutes, both Jenna and Lisa were by my side, telling me everything was going to be alright. We waited and waited and prayed and prayed. I had not been down on my knees praying like that in a long, long time. I was begging God to let my brother be okay. I was bargaining and pleading with God.

My mom finally called back. She was silently crying and I knew what she was going to say before I had even asked the question. I said, “how is he?” After a long pause, I heard her say, “he didn’t make it.” Those words were the ones that changed me forever. They are still imprinted in my soul. I will never forget them. He. Didn’t. Make. It. My brother, the one that I had loved, hated, and loved all of his 30 years. The one that drove me crazy as an annoying little brother. The one that was always there for me as an adult brother. The good one of the family. The successful one of the family. The one that I could always call and he would come running. He. Didn’t. Make. It.

The next week was a blur to me. I still have a difficult time remembering how I got from Germany to home. I can’t tell you who was at the funeral besides me and my immediate family. I only can tell you the words I heard when mom told me the news. I went back to Germany, after burying my brother, with a broken and grief-filled heart. My friends tried to comfort me but I was unreachable. I began to drink heavily. I never allowed the alcohol to completely leave my system. I started drinking in the early morning and stopped when I went to sleep at night. I could not face life without being numb from the alcohol. It was just too painful.

Each morning I would awake and for a second, just a brief, normal, split second, I would not remember what had happened. Then, like a flood of needles piercing my body all at once, I would remember. He. Didn’t. Make. It. And I would get up and pour myself a drink.

(To. Be. Continued.)

Advertisements
10 Comments leave one →
  1. August 27, 2010 9:00 pm

    I’m so sorry. This is completely heartbreaking, the kind of thing you don’t ever recover from. It can’t be easy to write about it, but thank you for sharing it.

  2. August 28, 2010 7:04 am

    I’m sorry to hear about your pain, I know you weren’t looking for condolences, but my heart goes out to you.

  3. August 28, 2010 8:43 pm

    Hey girl. I don’t know what to say. I can only begin to imagine what you’ve gone through. I worry every day that I will get that phonecall about Hannah but what I really should be doing is treasuring the moments we have here together. Your brother sounds like a wonderful man. What a tragedy. One that you have survived no less. You are a strong strong woman.

    • August 29, 2010 1:34 am

      Thank you so much for the lovely and thoughtful comment. Treasure each and every moment. Life is so short.

  4. August 28, 2010 10:30 pm

    I lost my brother too, when he was 5 of lukemia. The crazy thing facts about life is the ‘death’ part. I hope you’ve learned to accept it (which doenst mean you like it) and LIVE… because I’m sure thats what your brother wants you to do. I wish peace for you.

    • August 29, 2010 1:37 am

      I’m so sorry for your loss. I cannot imagine what it was like to lose your brother at such and young and tender age. I try to “listen” to my brother’s words of wisdom which he left permanently planted in my mind. And one of the things I often “hear” him saying, is just what you said, LIVE. I miss him but yes, he does want me to be happy and enjoy life. Thanks so much for the thoughtful and inspiring words. 🙂

  5. September 20, 2010 5:16 am

    after reading this heartbreaking post, and what you left me at my blog, you really got me thinking…
    i will be calling him 2moro…

    im so very sorry for your loss… as much as i have some serious issues with my brother, i cant imagine going thru what you went thru…again. im so sorry.

    🙂 thank you for the kind words and encouragement.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: