Just Not Ready

I was just not ready.

Even though I am around the news about the death of people every day at work, my brother died, and I was just not ready.

Donnie was the second of the six children that Mother had. Mother had two individual male births and followed that with two multiple births. She had two sets of twins, back-to-back. The first set was a boy and girl, the other was two girls. I am one of those twins. Cloth diapers and glass bottles, you do the math!

My brother, Donnie, was the first in our family to graduate college. He was a model student in high school and I always resented that about him. What I should have done is emulate his aspirations. 

He was a faster runner than me, I didn't care for that either. 

He could get our Mother to let him stay home from school, just because he asked. She NEVER granted me such favors. Mother knew that he was a much better, well-mannered, harder working and disciplined student than I, so she regulated school attendance accordingly. 

Growing up, Donnie and I did not have too much in common. A lot of that changed when we became adults. 

Donnie was a great husband to his wonderful wife Margaret and a wonderful and guiding Father to Alexandra, his only child. He treasured them both. 

He was a teacher. More specifically, a speech and hearing educator and, based on the comments from his fellow workers and former students, who attended his memorial services, he was a fantastic and caring teacher, employee and co-worker. We heard story after story about how Donnie would always help, they who needed help the most. He cared deeply about his profession, his students and the professionals with whom he worked.

He led a life that I am deeply in admiration of, even though much about his life, I did not learn until his life was over. I regret that reality and will have to live with my regrets until I see him on the other side. 

I could have changed the relationship and should have gotten over myself long enough to learn more about his impressive life and perhaps be more prepared for his death. Enough of my mistakes, this is a writing about my brother. Let's focus on him. 

He left a wonderful legacy!

I sat, for a while at his bedside and held his hand just several hours before he breathed his last. During that time, I told him I loved him, even though I could not be sure that he heard me since his condition was so grave. My younger sister, who was a Hospice nurse for years, assured me that he could hear me and that was reassuring. 

My brother died and I was just not ready.

(Donnie is on the back row, in the middle)