David

Here's the thing - today is my brother's birthday. Just sixteen months separated our birthdays. I was the big sister. He was the middle child but the first son. I'm not sure I can describe what I was like as a child but I can describe David. He lived an adventuresome life filled with great humor. Before he could talk, he wandered off and picked up by the police. As my dad rushed home to help look for David, he passed the patrol car with his son standing up beside the police officer. He was fine. I was scarred. I was the responsible older sister and he made that job difficult. Not because he resented me but because he didn't have to be responsible. Our family has many "David" stories which make us all laugh.

We were close and yet not. After we came back from Venezuela, David repeated a grade which put three years between us. I was a senior when he was a freshman. He always had friends while I was much more shy and reserved.

David died twenty years ago this June. Even in death, he made people laugh. At the first viewing when my mother, David's wife and my younger daughter were standing by the casket, we began to hear a beeping sound coming from my brother. The alarm on his watch went off. We laughed because that was just something he would have done.

Time helps with grief. The hurt and loss dulls and time passes without constantly having to remember. He would have been 56 today. I wonder if we would have grown closer as we aged.
I wonder if maybe we would have become friends. I wonder and, today, I miss him.