Age:[ 19 ] Gender:[ Female ]
On November 4th 2001, my brother, Garrett, was driving home from a party, when he decided to pass the car of another High School student. This happened on a blacktop, it's a two-lane tarred road, which was less than a mile from our house. The person whose car he had passed went back to the party for help. I can't imagine what he sees in his nightmares, and frankly, I don't want to. I pity that poor guy, he saw my brother all cut up and everything. One of the First Responders there was one of my brother's many friends. As soon as he recognized the car, he went from a First Responder to an anxious friend. They rushed my brother to the hospital and cleaned him up. The next day, November 5th, he passed away in the hospital. He was sixteen. I was in my first semester at a local college two hours away. I had turned my phone's ringer off because I had gotten a prank call at one am. Needless to say, I was very surprised to find my entire family, minus Garrett, at my door at nine am on Sunday. I didn't really think anything was wrong because Garrett works and he was almost never seen with the family. My mother sat me down and told me about what happened. Right then I KNEW he was dead, because my mother does not joke about things like that. I left a note for my roommate and went home with my family. When we got home, two other families, whom we were friends with, had cleaned our house, with the help of their daughters who are my sister's friends. My best friend left work after being told what happened. She told her mom, "Get me to Genny." I thank her so much for walking around town with me and just GETTING OUT OF THE HOUSE. I became "the Rock" for my family in the days immidately following his death. It was all I could do to spare my younger siblings. Everyone said, "Be the Rock." Everyone except my Math teacher in High School, she said, "It's okay to be you." I thank her for that. It seems for the most part that my parents are in the rejection stage of grief. They don't want to talk about it. It seems only myself and Mark, my littler brother, have accepted what happened. I know that sounds strange, but my parents and my sister are different now, I know everyone's different after a death, but it's like they have lost themselves because of what happened that night. I still talk to my brother. He's one of my seven spirit guides. I know some think it's crazy to talk to the deceased, but they are people too. The way I see it, most people pray to God, and I talk to my brother. We are closer now than we were when he was on Earth. He is here for me to yell at, to cry to, and to share my happiness. I tell him, "My life is MY life, but you it's your life too." There are so many things he didn't get to do: to graduate, to get married, to make something of himself. I feel like I will get to do all of these things and he can be there when they happen. I know he's here now watching me write this and I know he's smiling because he knows I have found acceptance of what happenend and he understands my wanting to share my experience. I do know that death is not the end, the deceased will watch over their loved ones and I'll tell you why. BECAUSE THEY CARE ABOUT US. Please remember that a deceased child most often gets elevated to perfect status by the grieving parents. Also remember that the siblings of a lost child should not be lost in the shuffle. Everyone is equally impoortant to God and thus should not be over looked simply because the child has passed before their parents. Thank you.
Thu Mar 14 09:27:09 2002 back to other Contributions page