from one brother's sister to another sister's brother

Some days

it all adds up 

and what you got

is not enough.

Some days

are better than others.

I had been fine, mostly, at the Celebration of Life for Todd Hizer.

I arrived as Suzy Carpenter was sharing stories that highlighted his sense of humor, his friendship, his helpfulness, his love of students.

Then Gary Guillet, a former professor at Armstrong, shared a story of Todd's love of Gary's older son, Isaiah, and that teared me up a little.

But I think the remembrances from Todd's sister, Tracy, were the ones that really got to me.

I understand that loss of a younger brother.

Still, I was under control.

I even stayed for the reception, talking with Yvonne and Jackson, Gary, Cathy Mac, Leah, and several others for almost two hours.

As a parting gift, Tracy allowed me to select one of the bouquets to enjoy at home.

I decided to go straight from Oatland Island Wildlife Center to Greenwich Cemetery.

My thought had been to split some of the flowers with Ronnie, Mama, and Jean Marie.

That didn't happen.

Instead, as I drove, I kept thinking of the play last night.

Sisters and brothers, brothers and sisters.

Sisters having to bury their brothers. 

Still, I thought I was okay and proceeded on with my plan.

 

I took a sprig of the tiny flowers to place at Ronnie's pier.

A father and son were fishing from it.

I hadn't meant to disturb them, but of course they noticed when I paused to place the flowers nearby.

The father spoke a greeting to me and I explained briefly why I was at that spot.

My brother had loved fishing there and that's where we had placed his ashes."

"What was his name?", he asked.

"Ronnie", I replied...

and started to feel the catch in my throat.

His line tugged and he pulled in a large redfish.

"We hadn't caught anything until you came up."

I wished them well and barely got away before the sobs started, leaving me to sit in the car to wait them out.

Then I drove over to Mama and just bawled.

 

Loss adjustment just seems never-ending sometimes.

My mental jukebox had pulled up that U2, but just that one verse.

I had stopped to visit Ronnie, and caught two men fishing, as he and Smitty once did.

Yes, some days are better than others.