Eddy

I went to go sit with my brother’s memory today, to sit in his home in an attempt to grasp at his memory, to cling to whatever I could to feel his presence and to tell him goodbye. But what I found instead was an empty shell of what used to be, all of his belongings had been packed and loaded up in what I can only assume was a hurried fashion. No family heirlooms, no photos, no trace of the man who once resided there. Almost everything was gone, closets were empty, all that remained was some furniture, his trash, and two garbage bags of clothing atop the bed where he took his final breath. I felt the void of his absence grow larger as I sat in his empty room. Losing him once was enough to knock the wind out of me for 12 days, and unfortunately for my now shattered heart, only 8 days would have allowed me to sit in his space as he left it. Had I have known; I would have forced myself to sit and soak him in one last time, as I had gone there frantically before his cremation to find his beloved rabbit, Bun-Bun, who so comforted Eddy throughout his life, so that he could follow him in his physical departure.

12 days. How quickly we move to erase memories when they are painful. But for me, I can’t erase him, nor move past him, because for me, he is a part of the very foundation of who I am, as I was for him. Our bond is unbreakable regardless of physical artifacts, and no amount of slander, hate, nor disregard can break us, or break me. Because you see; my brother and I were thrown into the fire for as long as I can remember, and though that home now looked empty, I found him once again.

I found him in the guitar pick left on the fridge, as I remembered watching him learn to play each night in his bedroom. I found him in the Adidas pants and recalled his fake Russian accent when he wore them. I found him in the paper, where he had started to draw the lines that would eventually become an artistic masterpiece, had he lived. As I traced the edges of his art table I remembered all of the hours he spent honing his skills with the pen until he was finally satisfied with his work. I found him in his grocery list, and I remembered how much he practiced his penmanship to perfect just the look he wanted. I found him in a picture of his past lover, then I remembered the countless days and nights over the last decade that I listened to the hurt it caused him. Then I remembered what the conclusion always was after we talked of such things. We might not ever understand the motivations of others, and their actions might cause us pain, but we’ve been through worse, so this won’t break us.

Eddy is gone. Gone in the sense that I will no longer answer his calls where he is giddy with excitement sharing in his recent planned shenanigans, or where he is wanting to check in on my life with genuine interest and love, or to hear him share his sorrows and pain as he knew,  regardless of the reason for the call, I would answer and meet him with acceptance as he always did me. Because he and I had weathered so many storms together, we always knew just what the other needed to hear in that moment, no matter the circumstance.

As the oldest sibling, I think Eddy took his role of looking out for me very seriously. Even as a small child, he would courageously stand against and do his best to defend the abuse we endured. And when he failed, we would sit and cry together. Then after the tears he would lift me up, stand next to me and say, “I know it hurts, but we can’t give up, we can’t let it break us”. And those words, so often said to one another, kept us both going, moving forward, never allowing our spirits to crumble under the pressure of adults whose aim was to destroy us. You see, for Eddy and I, we were the only safety we had as we were always let down by all of the adults who were supposed to protect us. Unlike many in our lives, Eddy never judged my sorrows or actions to save myself, he simply loved me even at my messiest, as I did him. And I dare to say, he did the same for many he met. He was an extended hand that reached out, pushed us to keep going, and always found a way to input laughter no matter how war torn or battered you felt. Eddy always knew how to bring me back to center, and as I have learned from others he knew, he was the grounding rod for many.

It would be amiss if I did not delve somewhat into the complexities that was our childhood, because without that knowledge and understanding there would be no way to truly comprehend how incredible Eddy was. Eddy was born 2 years and 10 months before I was. 6 months after I was born, we were removed from our mother’s home and lived with our paternal grandmother and her husband. This is where our yearning for family really began, because that house was not a home, and within those walls was an angry woman, who found joy in belittling us, hurting us physically and psychologically, and who allowed a predator to visit whenever he wanted to “care” for us in her absence. Many of these experiences will now die with me as they are still indigestible and incomprehensible to the rest of the world. All we wanted was a loving family, all we got was a woman whose emotional stability was questionable, but her vindictiveness was not. 

The thing about trauma, is it has a way of isolating you. The memories of the experiences become locked away as they become unbearable to face until our spirits are ready to release them. For us, this release started in adolescence. Once Eddy learned to drive, we found comfort in our time alone commuting, and we began to open up to one another about all that we had, and continued, to experience. It was during those drives that we began to truly comprehend everything we had endured. So, we began to boldly push against our abuser and seek out our freedom in every way we could. For a while, this rebellion became the balm to our wounds. We thought if we shared our experiences we would find safety, but instead we were met with disbelief, anger, or the worst of all apathy. There was no escape, and there was no one that would save us, so we pushed more and more until finally I had pushed too far. Eddy, being the boy, was allowed more freedom, and found his escape through his adventures, but I was kept on a tight leash, and once it became so tight that I could no longer breathe, I realized that my only chance at survival was to run.

As much as I hated to leave Eddy and my little brother behind, I knew that it was Eddy and I’s only chance. I had hoped that if the police became involved, they might believe us, but like all the other adults we confided in, I was ignored. The first time I was returned home I really believed it would make a change, the second time I hoped my grandfather would finally listen, neither happened. So, I left for a third time, and I knew there was no way to ever return until I was an adult. I know that this hurt and worried Eddy immensely, but I also knew that if I didn’t it would break me. I also knew that if I broke, it would break him and that after all those years supporting one another THAT would be unacceptable. Besides, that was the only rule for all our lives “don’t let it break you”.

When I did come back home to my brothers, I wanted nothing more than to forge the family that Eddy and I had been robbed of our entire lives. However, as often happens when one is hurt, most of my family held ill feelings towards me, and never really allowed me back home. I was marked as the one who left, the one who wasn’t committed to family, the outsider.

Eddy was hurt by my leaving this I know though he never said anything to me. That was just how he was, he never shared with those that hurt him what they had done, he simply loved them anyway. After I moved back to be closer to the family Eddy and I both quickly learned that our bond, though fragile from our separation, still held, and our love for one another never faded. And so gently and slowly, we rebuilt the foundation, but this time with our own rules. The only expectations we held for one another were acceptance, happiness, and to elevate each other though the challenges in life. And over the years we began to truly know who each of us had become and were becoming.

We saw each other through divorces that tried to break us, restarting from nothing, death, and new additions to our family tree. I stood by my brother in his darkest moments, as he stood by mine. Never did we chastise for our messiness, nor did we ridicule for our poor decisions. We simply found laughter in the pain, joy in acceptance, and held firm to our rule. “I know it hurts, but you can’t let it break you”. We cheered each other on as we pursued life and celebrated how far we had come from where we started.

In my brother’s passing I’ve learned that some loss literally takes the breath out of you and renders you immobile and lost for days. I have also learned that my brother had done for many what he had for me. He accepted each of us in all our mess, loved us wholeheartedly, and wanted nothing more than for us to truly live a happy and fulfilling life. Eddy saw beauty through the chaos that life can put us through and extended a hand to each of us. So, as much as I want to crumble into a million pieces at the loss of such a brilliant soul, I will honor my brother as we all should. I know it hurts, and I know sometimes we can’t understand the motivations of others, but we cannot let it break us. And if you can find a reason to laugh through it, always choose to do so. Because life is fleeting and wasting time with the things that don’t matter or hurt is a waste of that precious gift. So, go, adventure, pursue joy, and always find laughter in everything you do. Because at the end of our lives all that really matters is how bold we chose to live, how fiercely we chose to love, and how firmly we stood in who we chose to be.