You Remind Me of Someone I Used to Know

I know it's my heart wishing to look upon him again, and my brain trying to recognize him in the shapes that I see... but every time I see Will Smith I am reminded of my brother. I'm not entirely sure why, but for me the similarity is striking. I love Will Smith for this (also, amazing actor).

I'm having a moment...

I was re-reading the words that my brother wrote in the card he sent to his best friend just before he died and noticed something that I hadn't noticed before.

My brother had written "Seems my other friends were right in calling me "Isakawuarte" (benevolent, mischievous, amoral, cunning, sly, resourceful, antagonistic and sometimes destructive). Yes, of all things I have been called or named, I like Isakawuate and it's meaning best."

I kept reading that word, "Isakawuate," over and over again.

At first I was trying to figure out what the word was as I believe my brother was spelling it how he had heard it as I can't find the original word. But then I just kept looking at it like my brain was trying to tell me to look harder. And then I saw it.

I don't know if this was intended or not (and I'm not sure of the protocol to ask something like this) but my brother's best friend named their baby Isak. Isakawuate. Isak. Isakawuate. Isak.

I can't love this enough.

We All Have Sorrow

"I could not foresee this thing happening to you"
~ Paint it Black lyrics

There are no words to describe sibling loss. There's no fancy title for it. There are no ways taught to prepare for it. There aren't really any bereavement groups. Because it's not supposed to happen.

Losing a sibling is to lose a part of yourself - like your shadow - forever. You don't realize how much you are a part of them until they take it away with them, leaving you suddenly and permanently changed. A stranger to yourself.

It takes ages to understand who you are again, and the sorrow of who you once were never leaves you.

We never imagine saying goodbye to our siblings without the possibility of another hello. We don't recognize the moments that are to be the last moments until they actually were.

There is a type of subtle guilt that comes with living your life despite sibling loss; doing the things they never will. While trying to "carry on" you carry this with you, everywhere you go.

Lately I've been on a journey of rediscovery, learning about me and my place in my world. I've adventured across seven countries, meeting and reconnecting with family, exploring the places our parents grew up, mapping out family trees and checking stuff off the bucket list. I love it and yet every moment of it is tinged by a colour of something that can only be this subtle guilt; an abiding sorrow in knowing I am living and he is not.

I have been without my brother for 13 years. I don't always understand how time works, but I can confidently say that these 13 years are a new kind of forever. People talk about "closure," but that's not a real thing as much as it is a word used to define the limits of what is tolerated when it comes to how much visible, tangible grief is permitted.

Thirteen years is long enough to know that this is who I am, now. I'm ok. And I'm not. I'm not as brave as I was. There's a part of me that will always feel... alone.

We change as we age - different experiences and influences craft us into ever evolving (hopefully more kind and enlightened) versions of ourselves. I've become significantly different over the past 13 years. Would my brother even recognize me, would he even know me, if he were to suddenly appear right now? I can't ever know the truth of that, but I do know that no matter what, he would accept who I am and jump right into my battles regardless of how crazy. Because that's how it's supposed to be.