apropos of anything

I went to Seattle this weekend and rode a ferry boat. (Did you know McDreamy likes ferry boats? I do too; I think it’s my Arab sailor ancestors coming out in me.) Before that, I went to Sunset Memorial Gardens Cemetary in Richland, Washington, to visit my brother.

I don’t remember him at all. My parents don’t talk about him too much, and I was eighteen months old when he died. I had never before been to see him. I went now because I needed to know where he was.

I’ve always kind of known where he SHOULD be. When I was sixteen, in my senior year of high school, and I was the first one looking at leaving home, he should have been there, with nine years of experience in being independent. When I was born, he had wanted a brother; he should have known that he didn’t just get one, he got three. When Aasif was born, he should have been fifteen. Today, he should have had kids of his own.

And now I know where he is. I finally know his birthday. It’s not like I suddenly know HIM, but at least it’s more than a photograph.

I took him roses from my mother because that’s what she wanted, and I took him lilies from me because I like lilies better than roses. And I called my mother approximately eighteen times because she hadn’t been able to go. I know she wanted to, and every time I looked at the headstone, I thought about how hard it must have been for her to deal with a child dying and a child being born, all in one week, and that if I have a space where he should be, she must have an entire cavern.

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