My little brother, Zack, has been gone nine years today.
My sister, almost 10 years my junior, and I, until recently, raged like warlords from the moment she first came wilding into the universe. In fact, two of the only things that we could ever agree on were hip hop and Zack. We dig both.
Zack was the first boy to steal my heart and he was the last one to break it. I was mad at him when he died. Indignant. Haughty.
He wanted to come live with us and we were going to let him – if he followed our rules and guidelines. He begged me to let him come down here and get away from the drugs and the lifestyle that he was leading. I told him as soon as he was clean could. He never got down here.
The guilt that I feel about that can still take my breath away. I know that we had to have boundaries with him – especially since we had just become parents. Well, my brain knows it anyway. My heart is a different story.
However, that is neither here nor there anymore. There is no amount of guilt or reason that can bring my beautiful baby brother back. I will never know if he would have turned his life around. If he would have found a good woman to marry or if he would have been the proud dad to some bobble-headed, green eyed babies.
Zack’s death changed me. It changed how I see people and how I treat them, and fortunately, it cracked up that hard veneer that I thought was protecting me. It made me softer. It showed me that I needed to be kinder, more understanding and a lot less judgmental.
See, Zack’s death was completely avoidable. It was avoidable had one person who had signed on to protect and serve that night actually protected or served him in the way that they would have me; had one person, and I wholeheartedly include myself, been kind, understanding or less judgmental maybe I would have been able to take him out for a legal beer.
Remember that no matter how we perceive each other, that for the vast majority of us there is a soft, fragile human being who only wants to be seen and heard and loved.
A human being who loved the Incredible Hulk and who ate ketchup on his scrambled eggs. A human being who sent his big sister letters when she was away at college. A human being who matched his fitted baseball cap to his shirt. A human being who loved Fruity Pebbles. A human being who had great manners and who was always quick with a hug.
A human being who was my brother.
See you on the flip side, buddy.
I hope that you all take time to tell someone that you love them, that you believe in them, that they are worthy. You won’t regret it.Â
This article was written by a guest blogger. The opinions expressed here are those of the writer and do not reflect the opinions of Bob Lacey, Sheri Lynch or the Bob & Sheri show.
Soshally Awkward
Sosha Lewis is a writer whose work has been featured in The Washington Post, Huffington Post, MUTHA Magazine and The Charlotte Observer. She writes about her sometimes wild, sometimes hilarious, sometimes heartbreaking past filled with free-lunches, a grimy sports bar, a six foot tall Albino woman who tried to save her teenage soul, felonious, drug addicted parents, an imaginary friend named Blueberry and growing up nestled in the coal-dusted mountains of West Virginia.
