If Only

*This is a story about grief and loss*

Leaning my head back, I close my eyes and bask in the sunlight. The gentle breeze caresses my skin, causing goosebumps to rise to the surface. A storm is moving in, here to wash away the last of winter and prepare the land for a healing spring. The summer was full of drought and wildfires. Smoke clouded the sky, consuming all but a small amount of oxygen for the rest of us. The fall offered very little reprieve, only raining a few times in a matter of weeks. The leaves changed all too quickly, barely leaving enough time to delight in the serene colors. Luckily, the cold temperatures helped beat back some of the smoke in the air.

Winter was brutal. The snow came late, but when it did, it was ferocious. I spent three days holed up in the house to wait out the storm. It obscured the land in a thick, sparkling white blanket. Icicles reached for the ground, hoping to find purchase enough to create an extra layer of support to outlast the winter. The river froze over, carving a deep slash of brilliant blue through the landscape. Any snow that drifted onto the ice usually blew away within a few hours. The days were short, the nights long. For months, temperatures consistently dropped below zero.

It was a long, hard year for my family. Who knew that the harsh seasons would be a close representation of the trauma of our loss. The burning anger of why it had to happen to him. The icy numbness of denial. At times, all I could do was drown myself in sorrow as the grief consumed me. My body barely made it through the experience. Rubbing my chest, I remember the pain as if it were yesterday. My heart had beat so hard, so fast, and so erratically for days on end while we waited for him to awaken. It caused permanent damage and weakened my heart. A couple weeks after he was gone, I had my own surgery to endure. The doctors had a hard time bringing me out of anesthesia due to exhaustion over the ordeal. My body desperately wanted to let go and join him in the afterlife.

Now, I sit in a place that we had always dreamed of visiting together. A part of me will always be missing. He was the adventurer, the dare devil. I remember the days that he would create his own jump ramps to bike over, then would inevitably injure himself somehow. Every single time, he would leap right back up, dust himself off and do it all over again. Who knew that one day he wouldn’t be getting back up?

Breathing in deeply, I fill my lungs with crisp oxygen. I can smell the rain in the air, moving closer in on me. Opening my eyes, I take in the vast wilderness in front of me. The forest reaches well beyond what my eyes can see. I shiver involuntarily, thinking of the beasts lurking within the trees. For all I know, one could be watching me at this very moment, ready to pounce on my unsuspecting self. There is something thrilling about the thought. An amused smile pulls at my lips. Now wouldn’t that be an ironic way to die. After telling him all those years ago that one day his recklessness would get him killed. Yet, here I sit in one of the most dangerous areas on earth. At least I would get to see him again.  

Twisting the ring on my finger, the silver metal feels cool against my skin. The headdress and skull design are not necessarily my style, but it’s the only thing I have left of him. When I wear the ring, wherever I go, I feel he is with me. Tears fill my eyes as I think of him. My little brother. He was one of my closest confidantes. I miss him every single day.

Sometimes, I take a moment and think back to our last conversation. It had been a couple weeks before the accident. I was lying in a hospital bed, dealing with pancreatitis. He was the first person I called. I was so scared, but he made me laugh and it washed away the worry and fear. If only I knew then that it would be the last time I would talk to him. If I had known, oh how that conversation would have been so very different. Instead of focusing on my problems, I would have focused on the pain and heartache that he was going through. I wish I would have said:

“Do you know how important you are to me?”

Of course, he knew I loved him. But maybe I should’ve delved deeper, pushed harder. I should have tried everything in my power that day to make him understand that he was loved. The girl that broke his heart didn’t deserve his devotion. Nonetheless, we’ve all been in love before and sometimes it makes us foolish. I should have told him to stop being a risk-taker because the adrenaline was only a temporary fix, it wouldn’t make the pain go away. I should have told him that it was okay to ache for what was, but it wasn’t the end. He had an entire family to lift him up. He had nephews and nieces that adored him. There was so much of his life ahead of him. Though there was pain at that moment, it wouldn’t last forever.

In the months following his death, our world completely shattered. As we tried to pick up the pieces and glue them back together, I would find myself going down the “what if” path on more than one occasion. What if I had said those things to him and he was still here? Then I wouldn’t be worried about how my parents were handling it. Their lives would be normal and untroubled rather than drowning in despair and sadness. His twin sister would have a strong shoulder to lean on as she entered parenthood, a man who would always be there for her and her children no matter what. He would have had the chance to heal his relationship with our older brother. He would have been there to watch his nieces and nephews grow up.

I think of how my life would be different too. Rather than carry his ring around, a memento of pain and anguish, he would be living his life right beside me. He would be sitting here, gazing in wonder at the vast wilds that I now call home. He would have been the first one to embark on this adventure, dragging me along behind him. I would still get his calls when he had crazy stories to tell me. I would still get to hear his voice. I would get to feel his warm embrace when we saw each other. Our family get togethers wouldn’t have an empty plate at the table, waiting to be filled by someone that wouldn’t return. If only I had said how important he was in my life.

Then at least he would still be here.