Independence Day

I don't like the 4th of July. I try every year to like it and I just don't. There is a reason though; my brother died July 4, 1988. It doesn't seem fair to me that he was born on a holiday (December 31 1986) and died on a holiday. Every year when people are celebrating the holiday, bbqing with friends and shooting off a dazzling fireworks display, I'm desperately trying to not think about Gary and the worst day of my life. Obviously, my memories of that tragic day are horrible, but I think that because I am by nature a pessimist, I only dwell on the negative. I have very few memories of Gary, but the ones I replay in my mind are of the hospital that day, seeing him wracked with tubes to help him breathe or the times I would take his picture and sneak up to his room when nobody was looking and cry until I felt sick. The only time I remember going to his grave was when I was little--I don't remember exactly how old. I do remember that we wrote him messages and stuck them in balloons and let them "float up to heaven." I don't know if I'd been back since then. I'm not sure what's held me back all these years of going up to see him. I think in some ways it was fear; fear of feeling such an intense loss that it actually makes my insides hurt. I've already spent nineteen years trying to heal from that and I didn't want to re-open any of the deep heartache that I've felt. But today I faced my fears and I went up to see him. It was actually an amazing experience. It took me a little while to find his grave, but once I did I just sat with him for awhile. There was nobody really there, which was nice. This was something that I wanted to do by myself, in complete solitude. I think that there was some healing that happened there. As a child I used to worry about him; worried that he was scared and lonely. Going up to his grave as an adult was freeing for me. I've always known that he was with Christ, but today it became more real to me. His gravestone is a memory, a representation of his life, but he's not there. As I sat there talking to him silently (I tried talking out loud and it was just weird!) there was a warm gentle breeze that washed over me and I felt peace. There were lots of tears, but the wind brought a calmness over me. I know that Gary is safe, I know that he is happy. I think that we need to mourn, but I think that I was holding onto the pain that I'd felt for all of these years and today I was able to release a little of it. I actually didn't want to leave. I got a feeling of longing and wanting to be with him. It's comforting to know one day that I will...Maybe this year Independence Day won't be as hard. Maybe this year there won't be a looming feeling that I try to pretend away. Maybe this year it will be a remberance of him and a celebration of his life. Don't get me wrong, it will still be hard. There has never been a July 4th that hasn't been laced with pain since he went to heaven, but I have a feeling that this year is going to be different.