A Goodbye

I was standing in a crowded airport - the hustle and bustle of travelers swirling around me. I was navigating the sea of people in the same fashion I did of crowded New York City streets - eyes straight ahead, seeing people as moving obstacles rather than human beings.

I ducked around a corner and there he was - a tall, lean figure with coarse black hair.

He didn't smile. In fact, he hardly acknowledged that it was me standing in front of him.

"Oh my god! You're here! I can't believe that you are still here!!" I shouted. He looked at me solemnly. His eyes glanced at me and then, distracted, followed the traffic around us. "Stand here. Don't move. I am taking you home with me."

I fumbled frantically for my cell phone which was buried in my purse. After a moment, I located it and pulled it from my bag. There was no ringing on the line as I dialed my mother, but she answered anyway. There was no one there - I was talking to myself in a kind of one-way dialogue you see actors partake of in a play.

"He's here!... No, standing in front of me. He hasn't left!... I am not sure... I have to figure something out... No! I won't lose him!... NO! I said I won't LOSE HIM."

He and I had drifted toward baggage claim while I was talking on the phone - he followed me, aimlessly, heartlessly, as I approached the carousel and waited for my bag.

I hung up the phone, returning my cell phone to the abyss that was my purse, took a deep breath and stared at him. My heart was pounding quickly and loudly in my chest and I quickly began trying to memorize every aspect of him as though I had never seen him before; his pale skin... the texture of his jeans... the crookedness of his nose... the specks of color that ran through his green eyes. He stared back at me blankly and without any gross emotion but then seemed somewhat irritated like he often was when we were teens.

"I'm going, Jenn. This isn't going to stop me."
"But WHY?" I asked.
"Because," he replied in a huff; irritated.
I cried. I didn't reason with him but panic overcame me.
"No. You can't. You just can't. Mom and dad are worried sick. Everything is a mess. We all want you to come home."
He forced a snicker as if to say "oh well - you can't have everything that you want".

I retrieved my bag and we began walking through the crowded airport. Up and down stairwells, in and out of corridors, and finally prepared to take the elevators to the floor above where our exit would be.

I made him load the elevator before me so I wouldn't lose sight of him, but when we exited the elevator, I exited first and when I turned around, he was gone. I lost him again. I let him get away.

The feeling of failure was overwhelming as I dug for my cell phone again. My one-way dialogue made it clear to those within ear-shot that my mother was disappointed in me for losing him when I had him right next to me.

At last, the exit to the airport revealed itself. Unbeknowst to me, the airport was on an island and the only way to get home would be a trek across a mile-long bridge. I approached the bridge but realized quickly that the other travelers were crossing the bridge on their hands and knees - crawling from one end of the bridge to the other. I followed suite.

The bridge was wide enough for two people and wobbled from side-to-side. The closer you got to the center of the bridge, the more it wobbled and veered. The sides of the bridge were built of single two-by-fours standing on their sides, making the sides of the bridge a very shallow four inches tall.

As I approached the center of the bridge, the apex tipped violently from one side to the other until my legs were in the water. I fell off the side of the bridge because of the pitch and began holding on to the side of the walkway as tight as I could so I didn't fall into the black water. I panicked. No one would help me. I was losing my strength from the freezing cold of the water. I woke up.

This was the dream that I had about a week after my brother died.

To say that this year has been turbulent is an understatement. With George's death, its hard to recount the 9 months prior to his passing and so, whereas at this time of year I look back at all the good things that happened with ease, I find myself struggling to find the happy memories from this year.

On one hand, the beginning of 2011 brings with it, in my mind, the beginning of a fresh year - and on the other hand, I feel as though I am leaving this horrific event behind which, on the surface, seems great, but much in the same way that I lost my brother in the airport during the dream, part of me feels like I am leaving him behind.

I know, I know. "He will always be with you" and all the jazz and I know that the clock striking 12:01 on January 1, 2011 will not mean that I don't think about him every day for the rest of my life - but it feels as though I am leaving the time that I did have with him. 2010 will be, officially, the last year that I lived with my brother in this world and so something conceptual like a year has turned, in some ways, into a companion or person... and to leave it behind makes me feel like I am leaving George behind.

I find myself working hard to think of the things that came out of the year other than the loss of my brother - but the death of a family member this close changes you in such an organic way that it really changes your perceptions - and event that once seemed earth-shattering-ly great now seems "good". Things that were once "terrible" now seem tolerable. You are changed, at a fundamental level - your life and the perceptions of events within it are drastically recalibrated.

But, as I have said in previous blog entries, it is not my way to dwell on negativity. Its not my nature to obsess over things that cannot be changed or which I have no control over.

I have no hope of trying to figure out the values and pleasantries of 2010 prior to September of 2010 because the last three months created a "new me".

So, rather than hoping to figure out what greatness came out of this year, I will focus instead on the hopes I have for the new one.

I hope to achieve professional success.
I hope to achieve personal satisfaction with my weight.
I hope to grow/nurture new friendships.
I hope to establish a long-term plan for my family.
I look forward to life with a two-year-old (yes, I said "I look forward to it!")
I hope to be kinder to myself than I have been for the last 20 years or so.
I look forward to celebrating my 30th Birthday (EEK!)
And lastly, I hope to be the best possible mother, wife, daughter, cousin and friend I can possibly be - without "putting myself second".

I will never be able to reflect on 2010 without sadness, but with luck, later in life, I will be able to look back on my life and say that 2010 was the year that began a long momentum of great things.

To each of my friends, family, and random readers out there - I wish a very Happy New Year. May it bring new opportunities, great things, lots of love, and, for those who need it, peace.

Love always,
Me