It's his birthday today
9 February 2006
He should be 41
but instead is forever 30.

I didn't phone him
this day
eleven years ago.
I did try shortly after
but there was no answer.
I didn't call again.
22 days later
he was dead.

Strangers instinctively recognise pain.
I spent four hours at the airport
an endless time.
I felt them watching
not staring,
but caring.

He was in the dark when I saw him.
They should have left the light on.

They give you a brochure
a coffin catalogue.
I didn't know that.

Grief is visual for me.
Flashing images of contorted faces.
Not demons or death masks.
Much worse than that
loved one's features
twisted with pain,
anguish,
torture
and then the sympathetic eyes,
forced smiles.

The visions are still there.
Lurking,
waiting
for unguarded moments to attack.

It doesn't pass
but it does diminish.
The devastation,
the raw emotion
they remain
but the impact is less forceful.

The hole never closes.
That jagged void of pain.
But in time,
the ragged edges soften
and the abyss begins to fill up
with memories.
Memories which you can smile with,
not just cry.

Turning 30 was bad!
It wasn't meant to be.
How can you be older
than your elder?

But it didn't matter
I'm 35 now
and still his kid sister.
That'll never change.

Eleven years.
As one an eternity
and mere flicker in time.

My brother,
my wonderful big brother.
It's his birthday today you know!