A Tale of Two Brothers

So much pain and suffering all around. The recent Oklahoma tornado victims so prevalent in our minds still; personal losses having nothing to do with natural disasters; and broken homes; its life happening all around.

For some people it’s total devastation; for others incredible joy. Lives forever altered, shattered, broken, or put back together because of a miracle of sorts.

This post, this week, seems fitting.

May 24, 1980 was one such day for my family. My youngest brother turned eight on May 23, 1980. My oldest brother and his newly aquired wife, me and my husband of two months, all gathered at my parents' home to celebrate my little brother, who was an unexpected miracle himself. After dinner, cake and presents, my eighteen year old brother left to go hang with some friends. I am forever thankful for that time we all had together that evening, because we had no idea he would never return home.

The early morning phone call on May 24th forever changed my world when my dad called to tell us my eighteen year old little brother had died in a car accident.

What followed was a year of pain so intense; the grief and sorrow so tangible. I never knew grief could be so physical.

I remember the shock and denial, intermittently laced with a fragile hope that it was all a horrible mistake. How could my brother be gone?

How can life be so normal and change so drastically in a moment so brief it is but a wisp of time?

Every year for the past thirty-three years, within minutes of each other, we celebrate the birth of my youngest brother; a talented, funny, loving friend, husband, father, and so much more, while silently missing my other little brother who left this world far too early, by human standards anyway.

Happy Birthday, little brother!

I love you both.

I will miss you always.

Those three statements blending together; one no greater or less than the other.

All true.

And forever interwoven.

Bridges Over Troubled Waters?

Sunday my husband, daughter and I strolled across the Ohio River on the new pedestrian bridge in Louisville. The bridge is called Big Four Railroad Bridge.

 

It was a pleasant stroll on a pleasant day, over a not that pleasant river; but water is water and it always has an appeal, especially if it is a body of water you usually drive over instead of walk.

 



A lot of time, money and energy has gone into making this an enjoyable place to visit. It will eventually connect pedestrians to Jeffersonville, Indiana when that side is finished. As it stands now, one must turn around and come back once one has made the trek across the bridge.

As we were making our way across the bridge- which I found quite enjoyable- I couldn't help wondering why, if Louisville is in need of another bridge, and the debate to build continues still, we have three that connect Louisville and various parts of Indiana; why start from scratch? Even though this bridge was a train bridge in the day, and not big enough for two-way traffic, why not utilize the structure and make it a one-way bridge, alternating which way traffic travels throughout the day? Sort of like a ferry bridge where one must wait for the boat to come across to the other side before you get your turn.

I'm not a bridge engineer by any means, however, and I'm relatively sure it has been considered over the course of the great bridge debate. If that were to happen, and now that it is what it is, I'm positive it won't, I guess we wouldn't be able to get the views we enjoyed Sunday. Just saying...

Oklahoma Tornado

Broken lives, broken pieces.

It seems so petty now; everything seems not quite as important when faced with such a devastating natural disaster as the tornado that did so much damage in Oklahoma.

The cleaning schedule. No big deal.
The tall grass that didn't get mowed today. Not a problem.
The heat and humidity that suddenly appeared. It doesn't matter.

All the petty things, and those not so small, compared to what some fellow Americans are facing right now, makes it seem minute in comparison.

I've read the Tweets that prayers are with those affected. The Tweets that say sending food, money, clothing is way better than prayers. The Red Cross Tweets and RTs. Maybe it takes all of those things, people working together, gathering around the folks who lost so much, today, those whose lives will never be the same.

My thoughts and prayers are with them, too, as I look for ways to help in a practical manner.
 

A Step of Faith

I am reading A Step of Faith by Richard Paul Evans. It is the fourth novel in this series. The man certainly has a way with words. I just had to share the beginning with you. He wrote:

Am I dying?
     It's a stupid question, really, as we've all got an expiration date. I guess the real question is not if, but when.
     As I was walking through the South Dakota Badlands- before I knew something was wrong with me-I had this thought: What if we all carried little timers that counted down the days of our lives? Maybe the timer's a bit dramatic. Just the date would do. It could be tattooed on our foreheads like the expiration date on the milk bottle.
     It might be a good thing. Maybe we'd stop wasting our lives worrying about things that never happen, or collecting things that we can't take with us. We'd probably treat people better. We certainly wouldn't be screaming at someone who had a day left. Maybe people would finally stop living like they're immortal. Maybe we would finally learn how to live.
     I've wondered if, perhaps, at some deep, subconscious level, we really do know our time. I've heard stories of people spontaneously buying life insurance or writing wills just days before an unforeseen calamity takes their lives.
     Whether we know our time or not, it doesn't change the truth-there is a clock ticking for all of us. I suppose this weighs heavily on my mind right now because my clock seems to be ticking a little more loudly lately. a brain tumor will do that to you.

I don't know what it is, there's just something about those words, especially the line: Maybe we'd stop wasting our lives worrying about things that never happen, or collecting things that we can't take with us. The last part. You know, the one about the stuff.

There it is again. Why do we humans spend so much time collecting stuff that we can't take with us? Click here and here to read previous posts about stuff.

And I have a thing about how fast time goes by. It's crazy! Minute by minute we get older until our time is up, I suppose. And that's crazy too, because we truly do conduct our lives as if that wasn't true.

My sweet grandma once told me she still felt eighteen even though she was in her seventies. I really didn't get it at the time. I do now.

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