Gone

"So, I guess this is goodbye, then."

I stood there, staring at the gravestone in front of me, waiting for a response I knew I would never get. The world around me was silent, still, as if paused on this moment. Even the wind has stopped blowing, the sun beating down on my neck, shining on the words of the stone in front of me: Daniel Cuttings, beloved brother. The silence seemed to echo around me, swallowing me in a bubble of awkwardness and guilt. 

I stuffed my hands in my pockets, leaning forward onto my toes. "I don't know why I thought this would help. My therapist told me I had to let go of you, move on. She told me I should come down here and try talking to you." The sound of my voice carried in the wind, louder in the silence of the empty graveyard. I debated silently about whether I should leave now or keep talking. My words hung awkwardly in the air, my brother too far from this planet to hear them. The constant pressure in my chest didn't leave, instead growing, squeezing my heart and climbing up my throat. But another look at the gravestone proudly bearing my brother's name made my decision. 

Squaring my shoulders, I kept talking. "You'd like her. She's a nice lady, definitely your type. Or she was." I paused, listening to the wind as it shook the leaves of the tree next to me. "She helped me out a lot after your— after you were gone. I don't know what I would have done without her."

 My mind wandered, thinking of the few days before I had met my therapist, after my brother's funeral. The memories are blurred in my head, covered in a cloak of grief, guilt, and alcohol. A week had passed before I managed to think clearly. I had lost track of time that day after the fifth drink, and only during my third time hunched over the toilet bowl did I think about getting help. 

"You know, I've been thinking about Dad recently." I tilted my head up, watching the clouds as the words hung in the air. "All those days hiding in the closet, staring at your back in the darkness. Hearing the cry and yells from downstairs. I've been thinking about why he became the way he did. How he ended up drinking his way into a failed life and early death. How, despite all our promises, we ended up just like him." 

The sun shone relentlessly on my face. A remarkably beautiful day. I couldn't help but notice the irony. I felt trapped in the darkness on the nicest day of the year. 

I laughed humorlessly. "I bet he's looking down on us now, so smug about being right. He always said we would continue the family tradition. I only wish I'd known that you would be the one to carry on Dad's legacy of dying too soon." My eyes stung, and I told myself it was because of the sun. "If only I'd known."

I stayed silent again, watching the clouds move across the sky, changing shape as if unconcerned with the world around them. My chest grew tighter by the minute, tears turning to rage and threatening to choke me. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" My volume grew with every word, voice shaking. "Why didn't you tell me you were hurting, that you wanted to die? I could've helped you. You didn't have to leave. Why didn't you tell me?" My eyes were stinging again, tears blurring the world around me. "Why didn't I call you back?" 

I could hear the voicemails in my head, call after call asking to 'call me back'. I dismissed them every time, convincing myself I was too busy working, or about to take a shower, and I would call him back later. I never did. I never got the chance to. 

I stared at the gravestone again, my brother's name staring back at me. A tear leaked out of my eye as I spoke, my voice cracking. "I'm so sorry. I was too busy with myself, I didn't notice you. I didn't notice you slipping away." I sucked in a shaky breath. "And now you're gone."

Since the day I had gotten the call, I had been playing back every recent interaction I had had with my brother before his death. It was so clear now, all the hints he'd given me, all the messages I had chosen to ignore. The standard answers to every question, the carefulness not to talk about his own life, the emptiness that permeated every word he spoke. I had missed it all, too selfish, too self-centered to look past my issues and see my brother wasting away. 

And now, there I stood. I was alone in an empty graveyard, standing above my brother's body, trapped in a wooden box under my feet. Still, silent, never to wake again. Never to laugh again, never to cry again, never to breathe or open his eyes. The thought stung, as if I'd been electrocuted, shockwaves echoing through my body. My legs collapsed, sending my knees crashing to the ground, hands helplessly grasping the grass beneath them. This was the closest I was ever going to be to my brother. My body and his, separated by six feet of compacted soil. I would never feel his arms tighten around me as I cried, never hear his soft words of comfort as he shielded me from the world. My only protector, the one person I loved more than the world, was trapped beneath my feet, gone. 

A sob ripped through me. My body had begun trembling at some point, but I couldn't notice anything except the word that repeated over and over in my head: gone. I had thought that I'd already accepted the loss, but standing there, in that field surrounded by stone memories, I realized for the first time that my brother was gone, and I was alone.