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Monday May 12,2008

A Garden Full Of Weeds

by Lostsister

The day of my brother's death I remember my sister saying, "God doesn't want weeds in his garden." I wanted to say he could leave some of the flowers for us.

The call came at 3 A.M., I remember laughing when I heard my husband answer the phone thinking he was late for work, then looking at the clock, then John telling me the phone was for me. It was my stepfather. "Chell something bad has happened."

Never in a million years could I have believed what he was about to say. My 26 year old brother fell asleep at the wheel on his way home. 3 miles past my mother's house. He was gone. My youngest daughter was the flower girl for his wedding the summer before. All I could think was I had to get to my mother, 30 miles away. I kept telling myself don't fall apart yet not yet.

I called my oldest daughter's friend's house told I had to come get her. Picking her up, telling her that her Uncle Naaman was killed in a wreck and Dad and I had to go to Grandma's. That I needed her to take care of the other 3 kids and don't tell them why. I would call later and tell her when Dad and I would be back to talk to the other kids.

On our way to my mother's the wreck went by us with my brother's truck. The pain in my chest has not loosened. A month and 2 days later another call. This time my husband's dad. 51 years old, out of the blue, a massive heart attack.

We left at 10:30 that night; the call came in at 8. We drove all night. Got to his mother at 7:30 AM. My husband is an only child, through their grief my husband did not forget mine. It's been six months since my brother's death and I can't say his name without falling apart.

Where fall brings sadness and the cattle cry, where horses run free and the spirit is damaged.