Isn’t This Crap Supposed To Get Easier?

Guys, I really need to get back on top of this blogging thing. I’ve been such a slacker over the summer. All that outdoor drinking, and frying myself like a giant slab of poolside bacon. I guess I also haven’t really had much to say lately that I feel I can express effectively. So many deep thoughts about life, and love, and waffles and stuff. My mind is all over the place lately. It’s a problem. Most of all, lately I’ve been thinking a lot about my brother. I sort of thought that after two months had passed since he died, I’d think about him a little less every day, but that’s ending up not being the case. I think about him all the time. I mean, when I’m not thinking about food, and the upcoming fabulous Autumn boot season. And puppies. I like puppies.

Anyway, you know what sucks about losing a brother? Besides pretty much everything? Before Jon died, I never burst into tears randomly in public. It’s a little inconvenient, since I don’t normally carry Kleenex, and it isn’t long sleeve season. Not even a sweater sleeve to wipe away surprise snot. Unacceptable, Sometimes, I really think I’m ok. I’m in a great mood. Life is good. Then out of nowhere- In the middle of the work day; At Spin class; Shopping for red meat-  It just hits me. I will never, ever see my brother again. Never hear his laugh again. Never hear him call me a giant pain in the ass again. I think back to the afternoon I went to see him in the hospital and we talked and walked and ate Frosties. I think back to his last few weeks here, taking him for a Taco Bell Mountain Dew slushie. (Don’t judge me. It’s what he wanted.) (Also, Mexican pizzas are delicious. Don’t pretend they aren’t.) I remember our last family barbecue, sitting next to him with my two other brothers, watching him scarf down a steak, and looking at him that night and thinking maybe there’d be a miracle. That maybe the doctors were wrong. I guess that’s just who I am. Even when all hope is lost, I still always keep just a little. I’m still trying to decide if that’s a good quality or a bad quality. And then, I remember his last days in the nursing home, sitting next to him as he stared off blankly, just being with him, with my hand on his arm. Then, finally, I think about how I’d give anything in the world to experience any of those moments just one more time. It’s sad the tiny moments with our loved ones that we take for granted. I’d give up everything just for one more day of having my brother tell me I’m a giant pain in the ass.

People always say this gets easier with time, but I don’t see it. I don’t feel it. Not yet. Not even a little bit. Fuckin’ cancer. You’re a dick.

Not you guys. You aren’t dicks. I was talking to cancer. You know what I meant.

I’ll write way less depressing blogs one of these days, I promise.