.My brothers Death.

I almost really really do not want to post this. But what does it matter. *sigh*

I remember when my baby brother died. Sure, he was just a newborn, I was in between 3-5 yrs of age.

I dont really remember my mom being pregnant. Maybe because at the time it wasnt really important in anyway.

I remember my little brother and I were playing on the stairs though. And my dad rushed home. Then my mom and dad left. I think I can remember my sisters being worried. But my brother and I just played like nothing was going on. I dont remember who came to watch us, more than likely one of our neighbors.

We werent allowed to go see our mother. I didnt really understand why she hadnt been home though. I remember asking to see her. At this point I think my grandparents had driven out from PA to take care of us.

The day my brother and I did get to see my mom though, we couldnt stay long. I remember we bother had a bag of m&ms with us. And we were fighting over who got to sit in my mothers lap.

I asked her when she was coming home. And I think I remember her saying, “ill be home soon”. I think then I probably had asked about the baby brother I was suppose to be getting. And my dad told us that it was time to leave.

I dont remember a lot about it. I dont remember anyone being sad, or anyone talking about it. I think thats because they all just closed it off.

I do remember though, going to his funeral. I remember getting all dressed up. We took a “family” (me, my brothers, and my sisters) picture before we left. We were all fighting as usual.

We picked up the flowers, then we must have gone to the funeral. I dont remember anything about it though. I wish I did.

The most thing I remember, is on our way to the funral thing, it was rainy out. And when I got out of the car, I ran for the doors..I had to go up these stairs that seemed to have wound around and up. (maybe thats my imagination ::shurgs::) But when I was going up the stairs I slipped and fell, it really hurt. My mom told me, “dont run with your dress shoes on”.

And then we were inside, and I remember going up to the casket(sp?) and it was so small. And in it was a tiny little baby, so small and dark, it look just like a doll I had. And since the casket was big, there was room for the flowers we had baught him, and they were layed over him sort of. Thats the picture I have in my head.

And, we even have a picture of it.

We dont talk about him, ever. No one mentions him, and I am glad for that, I think. We used to celebrate his birthday every year..my mom would bake a cake and we’d sing happy birthday. We stopped that though, around his “4th” birthday. And we would all get dressed up, and go to his grave and put flowers there. We’d take another “family” picture each time before we went. We stopped going I guess, when my parents couldnt take all of us arguing there.

I used to think about him a lot. What he would be like, how our family would be. I used to sing little songs, when I was young, and I would sing them for him. Telling him that its all okay, because all his brothers and sisters are fine, and our grandfather was there with him, and he could take care of him.

I think I heard once, that it was a life/death situation. My father got the decision. My mom could live, and the baby would more than likely die. Or, the baby could live and my mother would die. My father chose my mother. But sometimes I wonder..and sometimes in the past I had even wished differently.

We had a funeral to go to, 2 yrs ago, and the woman (my great aunt) was burried close to my brother. And we went to it..me, my brother, my father, and mother. My mom and dad started crying, and my brother laid down a flower and walked away..I looked at them and got in the car and left.

Thats the last time I was there.

All these walls have been built with my family. And sometimes I wonder when and what its going to be like when they all get knocked down.