E and A
I started this blog almost a full year ago for several reasons: I wanted to see if I could maintain a diary that was online, since I couldn’t maintain a paper diary. I wanted to see if I could improve my writing skills.
And I wanted to finally be able to write down the story of my brother, A. Most of you know about my brother E, the tattoo artist. I’ve blogged about him before. But I don’t talk much about my other brother. Mostly because it’s still painful. And it’s easier for me to be funnier and light-hearted, than to be serious and sad. But writing about it will be good therapy for me. I can TALK about it anytime. I can TALK very clinical, sticking to the facts. This happened, and this happened and then this happened. As long as I steer clear of the emotional impact, I can talk about my brother to anyone. But as soon as I remember the emotion, the tears, how the events tore through my family, I choke up. I cry, and I can’t go on. But writing…well, I will most likely still cry, but I can type through tears. I can take breaks. I can get through it.
Consider this fair warning: for the next few days, I will not be funny. I will not be blogging about sex, or posting amusing pictures.
I may have to skip around a bit in the sequence of events. Six years have blurred the events in my mind. Even just a few months afterwards, I had trouble remembering exactly how it all happened. Usually we think of traumatic events happening quickly, a few seconds, minutes, or even hours. But months of constant trauma…welll, they have a tendencey to play tricks with your mind. Details become fuzzy. Sequences of events get mixed up. I will do my best to get things straight. I NEED to do this, because I’m afraid that after another 6 years, I won’t be able to remember much at all. And that’s the scariest thought of all. I don’t want to forget. The memories are painful and they break my heart, but they’re real, and they’re the last memories I have of my brother. And I don’t want to lose them. So I will post what I can on this blog, so that when things get fuzzy again, I can reread, and remember what happened.
Thank you for endulging me.