Twenty five years ago today is the day that changed my family forever. On January 19, 1989, my brother, Mark, was waiting at the bus stop with our sister and the other neighborhood kids when he collapsed. His death at age 11 rocked our close knit neighborhood and community. I was in eighth grade at the time and while I knew that my brother had a congenital heart defect and had undergone a lot of surgeries when he was a baby, it never occurred to me that he would have anything other than a normal, long life. I remember so many details of this particular day 25 years ago; the logistics of how I got home, who was there and where they were in the house. As I knew this 25th anniversary was approaching, I have been thinking even more about that day. Until I realized that I am thinking about it all wrong.
I think about Mark every day, but I need to remember to focus on the eleven years before that terrible day in January. Mark was such a character; he never stopped talking EVER. He was not an athlete by any stretch of the imagination but he loved sports with all his heart and kept trying to be involved. He wanted to be a sportscaster and would have been great at it. He loved to sing and loved being a big brother to our sister. He annoyed me to no end, as little brothers are destined to do. He was picked to be a safety monitor at school and took that responsibility very seriously. He was really smart and also really silly. He had scars on his chest from his early childhood surgeries but never felt that he needed to wear a shirt at the pool or keep them hidden - he thought they were cool. I never really appreciated how matter of fact he was about what he had gone through; he never made excuses for himself. He was one of a kind.
The memory that I choose to keep from January 19, 1989 is of the love and support that we received from our family and friends. In the years before the internet and social media and lists of "things to do when a friend is grieving," we were fortunate to be surrounded by people who lifted us up and let us talk and just instinctively knew how to make things better. I will forever be grateful to our Wynnewood and Hedgerow neighbors who took care of us, to the community at St. John's and to everyone who allowed us to move through the tragedy and forward. The funeral services were packed but so was our home long afterward. People who didn't know what to say still gave us hugs. My friends from middle school (who I had only met the year before) gave hugs and wrote thoughtful letters that I will always appreciate because it would have been so much easier to just pretend that nothing happened. I will always remember how good it felt when people reached out to us.
Especially now that I'm a parent myself, I have no idea how my parents made it through those first few days and all the days after it. They really are incredibly special people. They are inspirations and role models as parents and as human beings.
Even though this date 25 years ago changed our family, it does not define our family. It will always be a part of us, but not nearly as significant as the thousands of happy times before and since. Our family will always be larger than just the people that occupy the family tree because of how Mark affected so many people who continue to show their love for us. We have a perspective and an understanding and a shared grief and we endure together. I see Mark every day in Marin's silly personality and sweet eagerness to please. And I promise in the next 25 years that I will think less about the day he died and more about all the days he lived.
I think about Mark every day, but I need to remember to focus on the eleven years before that terrible day in January. Mark was such a character; he never stopped talking EVER. He was not an athlete by any stretch of the imagination but he loved sports with all his heart and kept trying to be involved. He wanted to be a sportscaster and would have been great at it. He loved to sing and loved being a big brother to our sister. He annoyed me to no end, as little brothers are destined to do. He was picked to be a safety monitor at school and took that responsibility very seriously. He was really smart and also really silly. He had scars on his chest from his early childhood surgeries but never felt that he needed to wear a shirt at the pool or keep them hidden - he thought they were cool. I never really appreciated how matter of fact he was about what he had gone through; he never made excuses for himself. He was one of a kind.
The memory that I choose to keep from January 19, 1989 is of the love and support that we received from our family and friends. In the years before the internet and social media and lists of "things to do when a friend is grieving," we were fortunate to be surrounded by people who lifted us up and let us talk and just instinctively knew how to make things better. I will forever be grateful to our Wynnewood and Hedgerow neighbors who took care of us, to the community at St. John's and to everyone who allowed us to move through the tragedy and forward. The funeral services were packed but so was our home long afterward. People who didn't know what to say still gave us hugs. My friends from middle school (who I had only met the year before) gave hugs and wrote thoughtful letters that I will always appreciate because it would have been so much easier to just pretend that nothing happened. I will always remember how good it felt when people reached out to us.
Especially now that I'm a parent myself, I have no idea how my parents made it through those first few days and all the days after it. They really are incredibly special people. They are inspirations and role models as parents and as human beings.
Even though this date 25 years ago changed our family, it does not define our family. It will always be a part of us, but not nearly as significant as the thousands of happy times before and since. Our family will always be larger than just the people that occupy the family tree because of how Mark affected so many people who continue to show their love for us. We have a perspective and an understanding and a shared grief and we endure together. I see Mark every day in Marin's silly personality and sweet eagerness to please. And I promise in the next 25 years that I will think less about the day he died and more about all the days he lived.
