Remembering You In Spring
This post is a dedication to my brother, Luis. Written in 2019.
Spring has arrived and the third anniversary of my brother's passing is approaching. I have yet to write about him. Until now.
He was too young. Maybe he wasn't a little boy or even in his teenage years, but he still had more years to live and more to experience in life. No mother should have to witness their child die, no matter the circumstances or age. My sisters and I, unfortunately, got to witness my mother go through it. Needless to say, my family wasn't prepared for it. I had just lost my father ten days before, so getting the news that my brother died too was like taking a bullet straight through our hearts. How can one person even deal with so much loss at one time? I honestly can't remember how we did it. It still remains a blur. What I do remember is going through of sea of emotions, but mostly, a sea of memories.
As a little girl, I looked up to my brother. I thought he was bigger than life. Having three sisters, he took the role of being our protector. And did he ever! I really can't remember anyone really getting away with bullying any of one of us because everyone knew they wouldn't get away with it. He was Luis. There was no one like Luis. He earned the huge amount of respect that was given to him. I remember one time he came to my elementary school to pick me up early from my fifth grade class. Not sure how he was given permission to go to my class to get me instead of waiting in the office, but when he opened the door, all my friends looked up at him. Nothing was said at first. They just stared. When I grabbed my things and got up, you can hear some of them whispering, "That's her brother, Luis!" and others asking, "Is that her brother?" By the way they were whispering and their tone of voice, I can tell they were a little intimidated by him. Who wouldn't be? He was one tough kid. I walked out of the classroom with a smile on my face.
My brother and I would always recite lines from movies that we enjoyed. Movies like The Bachelor Party, Smokey and the Bandit, and ScarFace, to name a few. Yes, we were into those kinds of movies, well, he was more into ScarFace than I was. I still can't watch that movie without flinching. Reciting lines was something I enjoyed doing with him. Not to blow my own horn, but we were good at it. Even as I recite lines from different movies today, I think of him. There are times I catch a line from a new movie I'm watching and think to myself, 'Luis would have loved that.' It brings a smile to my face. Bitter sweet.
This little sister would play sports with her big brother. My brother was seven years older than I was. So when he was in his teens, it's safe to say I hadn't hit puberty yet. He was much taller than I was. He would have me play tag football with him and his friends. His idea of tag football was more like hide-and-go-seek tag football. I think you get the picture. We would all find places to hide and if he would find any one of us, he would chase us down and hit us with the football as hard as he could. Since I was the smallest and the only girl, he would catch me every single time. I remember one time he got on top of the roof, spotted me, and threw that football so hard at me that I even bruised. Even though it would hurt like hell, I still wanted to play. Sometimes I think I'm a masochist, but to be honest, I just wanted to play with him. Not every big brother wants to be around his baby sister when his friends are around. I found it to be a privilege.
Just like any typical older sibling, he definitely thought he had permission to pick on us at his leisure. I mean, what are big brothers for, right? We would argue, fight, tease, and pull each other's hair. He had specific nicknames for each of us that I will gladly refrain from sharing. It was the norm for all of us. However, if you wanted us to get along and behave, put on the ATARI, and it was on! That's right! ATARI. I'm dating myself now. That kept us in unison for a couple of hours at a time. My favorite was Space Invaders. I can't remember which one was his favorite though. And that makes me sad.
There were a couple of times my brother cried with me. The first time was when I had the motorcycle accident back in May of 2002. The accident wasn't so severe to where I was debilitated, but enough that I had a broken facial bone, road rash, and bruises. I remember my husband at the time told me he had to call my family to let them know we had just arrived to the hospital. I really didn't want him to call them. I was pretty beaten up but I knew I wasn't going to die. As soon as my brother arrived and pulled the curtain in the emergency room, he broke down crying. I was strapped down to the backboard with a neck brace and bleeding from my forehead. I had a nice shiner too. When your dumb, you got to be tough. And I had no choice but to be tough that night. As soon as I saw him break down, I started to cry too. I did everything to pull myself together, enough to utter the words, "I'm going to be okay. Don't cry." He too pulled himself together... for me. The second was when I separated from my husband back in January of 2009. Naturally, I cried a lot and I went through a very difficult time. As I cried, he did too. I'm sure as the big brother that he was, he wanted to take matters in his own hands and take care of the situation for me. All he could do, however, was watch me gather the pieces of my life that were shattered and try to put them back together. His frustration must have ran deep.
I have great memories of him, as well as bad ones, unfortunately, but one thing him and I could do was dance. At each party I would have at my house, I would make sure they put on Latin music so we can take to the dance floor and show everyone our moves. The boy could dance! Just like he could cook a heck of a meal. He had well hidden talents.
With every beginning, unfortunately, there is an end. On March 24, 2016, I lost my brother to cirrhosis of the liver. The last few years of his life were very difficult and we experienced horrible heartache. I will spare those details as somethings are meant to be kept. I prefer to remember him the way he was while growing up. Those were much better memories and the ones that I hold close to my heart. Knowing that Luis is no longer suffering or in pain brings me and my family some consolation. Don't be mistaken. I miss him. We miss him... everyday. I don't believe a day goes by that my family and I don't think of him. Life has changed for us forever. We will always have the empty chair at the dinner table during the holidays. Thanksgiving Day was his favorite. Family gatherings are yet to be the same. Birthday celebrations often feel empty without him. You can feel the void. It cuts deep. What helps, however, is knowing that one day I will see him again. I believe that with all my heart. I will see all those I've lost... and they will be waiting for me with open arms to welcome me home. Until then, I will always remember him this way...
