Gone 20 Years but NOT Forgotten

I LOVE You Big Bro!

Day 155

October 4, 2013

Team Zybko

Fall weather stimulates many a happy feelings for most of us. Who can resist cozy sweatshirts and jeans during Friday night football games or colorful mums on pretty, nicely decorated porches. Change of season brings new life as the dead leaves are made into jumpy crunchy piles for kids in most backyards around the country. Even the usual drive through the school car line brings a cheerfulness to your daily commute. With the windows rolled down, no A/C needed, the fresh smelling breeze sweeps though every nook and cranny the sticky, humid summer has left behind. If that isn’t enough to get you into the autumn groove, stop by any coffee or donut shop and get yourself a pumpkin flavored anything, sit outside under the crisp blue skies at a quiet corner table. All of these are wonderful; I love every bit of it.

(I love you Tommy)

Unfortunately the early days of October also remind me of death and heartache. The cool air has a way of cutting right through me, reminding me of a day long ago when as I watched the sunrise. Huddled together on a cold cement stoop with my remaining 5 siblings as the glow came up over the horizon. The new day didn’t bring us any comfort at all, only indicating to us the long hours ahead to fill, the many minutes and seconds pretending to smile. This was new for us, uncharted territory. Through puffy eyes we starred as the morning light danced gracefully on the multicolored leaves dangling from the trees in our front yard. The same yard all seven of us had played numerous games of tag, bike races, un-countable dodge ball tournaments and epic cops and robbers dramas. I’m not sure how long we sat there completely still, numb and broken. The specific details are murky from age at this point but if I recall correctly none of us said much. When we did try to speak, the words would fall off our lips, a mere mumble, accompanied with uncontrollable tears. Like giggling in church this type of sobbing is super contagious and not exactly comfortable. Figuring out silence was best, we sat motionless, covering each other with love and a few homemade mom bedspreads taken in haste off our childhood beds.

(I love you Kath)

It’s been 20 years already, hardly seems possible. We all still miss him but in more of a healthy way now. Focusing on remembering the good times, high points and contributions he made to others rather than the pain surrounding the details of his death.

I was 21 when my big brother James died, the same age as Diane right now. It still doesn’t seem right or fair he is gone, having missed 2 decades of life with the rest of us still here. 18 more times he would have been congratulated as the best Uncle Jim ever but an even better daddy and husband he would have made. The anniversary of James Day this year has proven harder for me to breeze past on the calendar than recent years. Not sure why. Maybe cause my own kids are approaching the same young age he left this earth or maybe cause 20 years of any kind of anniversary is so solid, such a long time and so very final.

During the day I take a quick morning break from home schooling to sit and remember. Going down memory lane is where I want to travel this day. I remember my soft hearted brother and cry like it was yesterday I was told the news. I remember exactly where I was standing, the strange look on my dad’s face and the fact my mother wasn’t in the room. I know now why she wasn’t, to deliver that kind of weighted information to her other children would have been too painful. 

(I love you VA)

As I type out my feelings I hear happy youthful giggles, Drexel and La La have made up a fun wrestling game like a brother sister do.  It doesn’t help me dry my eyes. Honestly though, I don’t wanna dry my eyes. I wanna ugly cry it out over a pumpkin spice, triple shot, extra hot latte…no whip. I cry as I remember what made him uniquely him.

(I love you Angie)

How thoughtful and quietly tender hearted he was.

How he would lend me a few bucks with no expectations of ever getting that five spot back.

How we would bond while playing card games together comfortably curled up Indian style on my bed.

How we shared the love of the same genre of music. 

How we got excited when one of us bought a new Bob Dylan record, we couldn’t wait to play it.

How all animals loved him, especially dogs. He was the dog whisperer before it was cool.

How he had no need to suck the attention out of a room.

How during the sunny summer months his eyebrows turned blonde and disappeared.

How how hated all the nicknames that crept up and inevitably stuck around.

How smooth and graceful he was on the soccer field, he floated more than ran.

How he spent time with his nieces and took his job as uncle seriously.

How his smirky grin always looked a bit sneaky.

How cool he looked on his big ole motorcycle.

How he thought it was funny when he hid in a room and scarred his sister, almost peeing my pants.

How when my kids make a certain face they favor him.

How he cranked CCR and pumped iron in his bedroom bulking up one day at a time. 

How odd it was he loved his cereal soggy not crisp, purposefully letting it sit to attain its proper soggy- ness.

How he patiently helped me learn to drive a stick shift.

I could go on but my time of mourning has expired. La –La has had enough of her big brother and his playful choke holds, I must remember to teach her how to effectively tap out for next round. My break is officially over, I force myself to move on with the morning.  Just one more time I grab my phone to stare at some pictures recently sent in a group text.  My sister Kath had a great idea of sending mom and dad the sunrise in each of our cities. Many miles and a few states separate us now, different than that day 20 years ago when his death rocked our world. We have all come a long way. The pictures of our surroundings all taken with love with my siblings hands touched my heart. Exactly what I needed on this big anniversary. Even if our smart phones weren’t in the same place I know for sure our hearts most definitely were. 

(I love you Rich and thanks for the old pics of James)

As I clock back in into my shift as home school teacher and mom, my emotions wildly switch gears. Wet, sad eyes change to dry, smiley eyes in 2.2 seconds. The thought of James dancing the white mans overbite in heaven to The Traveling Wilbury's cheered me up fast. I love you always big bro….see you later!