The last time I saw my brother Johnny was in the grocery store.
Foodland.
I was getting ready to check out.
He called me, “Sister” and when he said it, there was always a hint of laughter in his voice.
I turned to find him standing with Joah.
I walked back to him and I remember patting his shoulder. I loved that he had strong arms like my Daddy.
We said something about what we were both doing that weekend and needing to get together soon.
Ordinary.
Except it wasn’t.
In 3 weeks, he was gone.
Today, he would have been 47.
I tried to imagine that. Johnny at 47.
But he is forever 29. Forever young.
In many ways, his memories became like tall tales.
I love it when his friends share new memories that I didn’t know.
His boys take my breath when they smile and laugh.
And just for a second, I get him back.
I can’t tell you how beautiful it is to see that he lives on in them.
But even in over 17 years without him, I can’t tell you how painful it still is to live without him.
My life will always be divided into my life with Johnny.
And without.
The without takes over when I should not let it.
But a few years back, I decided that his birthday should still be a happy day.
After all, it is the day we got him.
He was big.
He came in the world at 10 pounds.
When he cried, he held his breath and turned red.
And when he pouted, we told him his lip drug the ground.
He worshipped my Dad.
He was funny.
And charming.
And mischievous.
And trouble in every way but guilty, because he could get away with anything.
He made me laugh when I wanted to be so mad at him.
Our last family get together was Joah’s birthday. I am inside mad and washing dishes because when I look out the window, Johnny is doing the limbo.
He later ended the birthday party pretty quickly when he threw firecrackers in the kiddie pool.
I laugh now, remembering how I watched in horror as people grabbed their kids and get the hell out of dodge.
He could do impressions. Especially of me.
He loved to show me how I looked when I danced in my bedroom in the 80’s.
People always say someone lit up the room. I kinda understand that.
But for me, Johnny was sunshine.
I can close my eyes on a sunny day, and I feel him. I turn my face towards the sun, and that yellow and red glow can take me back.
All the way to that young boy who was brave and crazy enough to throw blueberries in the ceiling fan.
He stole my school fundraiser money and probably spent it out at Pot’s game room playing pool and video games.
He opened Christmas presents early without permission.
He shot me with a BB gun and busted my head open with a rock.
He could arm wrestle, hacky sack and make our Daddy so very mad.
Daddy would be kicked back all comfortable in his chair, and Johnny could get him up out of his chair like lightning.
My all-time favorite was hearing about him calling Daddy a pap smear.
I don’t know what he was thinking with that one, but Daddy did not think it was funny.
When Daddy asked him where he was going one day, he told him, “Cat’s in the cradle”.
I just laughed after all of this time thinking about it.
And that is what he would want not just today. But always.
There’s a few minutes left in this day, and I am going to spend them honoring his memory and smiling.
Happy Birthday and Happy Valentine’s Day, baby brother.
Most days I grieve you, but some days…
I let myself remember you. Even through tears.
Your big Sister loves you. Always.
cherylsuzette 