People often struggle about what to do when a friend’s relative dies. Sometimes, the smallest things can make a difference. Today, I stumbled upon a book a photo store gave in memory of my brother — 27 years ago. It meant more than I ever could have imagined. Continue reading
No one can fathom the kind of grief the parents of those 20 children – or the six adults killed in the same school shooting – will experience in the weeks, months, and years to come. No one, too, should try to second-guess how the tragedy will affect the victims’ siblings. Continue reading
August 7, 2012
Today my brother Kevin would have turned 50. Killed in a car accident at age 23, Kevin has been dead longer than he lived.
In 23 years, he did a lot of living. Since he would have been 50, here are 50 things I remember about my brother. They are a random set of remembrances, most from me, some passed along over the years from relatives and friends. Together, they may give others a sense of the young man, teenager, and boy he was.
Summary: The Boston Globe Magazine on May 27, 2012, published my essay about how it was so hard to remember my brother’s voice, though I could remember so much more. musings about whether to keep or toss my Mel Gibson DVDS, given the actor’s continued anti-Semitic rants. It ran as a Connections column.
Reaction: The story prompted several letters to the editor, and many readers responded by writing about their own experiences with loss and memory.
I grew up ignorant of the structure my religion offers mourners. Singing in temple choirs and attending Shabbat services gave me my first lessons about Jewish remembrance. I noticed the people who stood to hear the names of those they had lost – spouses, mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters. Today, I am no longer so ignorant of my faith’s rituals. But, I confess, it’s not always easy to stop life and remember. Continue reading
Most mourners share a common experience: The realization of how much our loved ones miss by not being there. On the 25th anniversary of my brother’s death, I write what he missed. I cannot, of course, list everything. This is just a taste. Continue reading
Ignorant of my faith, I could not turn to Judaism when my brother died 25 years ago. Ritual was not a part of my upbringing, and it lingered in the shadows through my 20s and most of my 30s. Only in the last decade have I started to follow the path that Judaism sets for mourners. Jewish ritual now smooths salve on the long-ago wound. Continue reading
Next week, on March 1st, a date that will always unnerve me, I mark the 25th anniversary of my brother’s death. This is the first in a series of three posts I will write as March 1 approaches. Today: So many mourners do not understand the power of a death’s anniversary – until it hits them. Continue reading
His auburn hair turned reddish-blond. His teeth gleamed white in a face that tanned to bronze. My late brother Kevin was the eternal boy of summer.
He was born in early August. Maybe his love for everything summer was a birthright.
To my brother, a slalom skier and ski jumper, every lake was a body of water to master.
“How many brothers and sisters do you have?” That question, so routine, is jarring for some of us. Too early in life, we lost a sister or brother.
I lost my brother Kevin 24 years ago. I have lived as many years without him as I did with him. And yet when someone asks me how many siblings I have, I still pause. Do I say I have one brother and stop there? Or, do I answer that I have one brother, but I had another one?
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