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From: Ginni Forker
Date: 28 Dec 2001
Time: 11:11:26
Remote Name: 63.64.70.4
Letting Go I feel as though I’ve been in this place too many times before. Gazing around the room, I notice many weeping people, all of whom are oblivious to my pain. Stolen glances tell me their eyes are filled with sympathy. As the man with the crooked tie and solemn face begins to speak, I feel all the hairs on my neck stand at attention. Taking in the essence of the roses, I can feel the coldness of death throughout my body. This day should never have come, but all along I knew it would. My brother is gone! Recalling the days, months, and years leading to my time of agony, one day stuck out the most. The day started like any other day. My brother Adam wanted to get up out of bed. When I gazed into his room, I saw big brown eyes peering out at me from the covers. I noticed how pale and hollow his face looked. Ignoring the obvious, I quietly asked, “What do you want for breakfast?” The tantalizing aroma of bacon and the sweet refreshing smell of eggs made me realize he always ate lightly scrambled eggs and ketchup with the ever-famous Guers iced tea. Adam bellowed, “The usual!” Walking into Adam’s room I noticed he must have fallen asleep with the T.V. on, because his favorite Playstaion game was still in the game system. I carefully peeled back his Cowboys comforter, helping him to his tattered and worn wheelchair. In the process of doing this, something peculiar caught my eye. Beneath his pillow I noticed a blue beaded necklace. Pulling the necklace out, I kidded, “Is this your good luck charm?” Adam hesitated saying, “No, it’s just in case.” “What’s that supposed to mean,” I choked out. He wheeled himself to the kitchen table to eat, ignoring my question. He firmly informed me, “I can’t talk about it.” I left it at that for now. While I sat at the table, thoughts swirled through my head like coke swishing around in a bottle. I clearly could not grasp what my brother was struggling to say, but I could not find the words to ask him. Nonchalantly I broached the subject again. With a fierce snarl he said, “I am afraid to die!” The anguished look of horror on his face said it all. Those five words contained an unimaginable impact. Agonizing feelings of dread and sorrow perpetrated my body. I was absolutely speechless. I secretly shared the same fear of death. My body ached as I silently cried inside. What could I tell my younger brother, who knew since he was five that he was going to die? I had no comforting words that I could muster up in his time of need. I simply walked over and hugged him, but was that enough? Coming back to reality from that day a couple of years ago, I was once again surrounded by weeping people. Sitting here, I listened to all the people who loved him, and I now know he did touch many hearts. In my brother’s hand laid the blue rosary he loved so much. The necklace he needed so badly to find peace in himself. I cannot fathom a single reason as to why it had to be him, unless there was a purpose in all this uncertainty. Was it my time to heal and let go of my fear?