It's real

I'm having a bit of a difficult time convincing myself that my brother is really dead.

You see, I haven't... hadn't... seen him in over ten years, since the day I moved away from BC, and visited him in Chemainus. I was so anxious to get on the road, I didn't really put my energy properly into the visit. I don't feel regretful over that. It's just the way it was. I'm not going to torture myself over meaningless regrets.

It's just that, not having seen him for so long, he was already pretty much not a presence in my life. We'd been trying to get closer recently, since he'd gotten himself a computer with a wireless card, and managed to send off the occasional email. I'd sent him a box full of old computer games and VHS tapes I didn't want anymore. Send him my old digital camera, and I'm hoping we'll get a bunch of new photos of his from it when we get it back.

I just need to keep reminding myself that he's not with us anymore. It's weird, because things haven't really changed. The funeral helped a bit. Seeing that urn sitting on the platform was pretty wild. My brother's ashes are in there, I kept thinking. At least it's a pretty urn they chose. Seeing my father get down on one knee and carefully place the urn into the small hole in the ground was surreal, but somehow it felt right. It was the first time I'd seen such a thing outside of the movies and I hope it's a very long time before I see it again. It does not escape my notice that I got to be 48 years old before I had to attend the funeral of a close family member besides a grandparent.

I just wish I'd seen him more recently, that's all. We missed each other by about three days last summer. He made it to Ottawa but just couldn't stay long enough to see me on my visit home from Halifax. I wish we'd made more of an effort. At least I could say I saw him two years ago, rather than more than ten. It might help me internalize the fact that he's really and truly gone.

Okay. Gonna go cry now.