'til Death and after death


My brother died. He was my only brother, three years younger than me. His name was Malcolm. He was hit by a drunk driver as he was crossing the street. There have been few words to come to mind besides regurgitating what happened and explaining that I have faith that he's in a peaceful place. I can't do much more than that. But today, I'm going to try. Before the accident, October 11, 2 in the morning I was feeling pretty low. I faced trials in my marriage. I had this foreboding feeling that something was dying. I assumed it was my marriage. I couldn't seem to keep the flies out the apartment. I couldn't seem to get out of the sadness. And then my mother called me around 6 in the morning, giving me time to still get some sleep before my life changed. She told my husband first and I think she made him give me sedatives. After that, I don't remember much. I could try, but there's not much point in it. All I know is that it's been pain ever since. Only by staring at the sky, playing with my daughter's hair, rubbing my husband's stubble, have I found ways to get out that funk. All those things are life. If my mind had its way, it would sleep until there was death. My tendency in tragedy is to sleep until my head is in constant ache. Your head hurts if you sleep too much, just as it hurts if you sleep to little. In order to force myself into staying in the present mind, body and soul, I opted to come back to New York with my daughter and my husband instead of continue the grieving in Jamaica where his ashes are being scattered. I originally thought I wanted to stay in Atlanta a few more extra days after the funeral, but I did not. I wanted to come back to my apartment, feed the cat, get back into routine, study my ass off. If I stay in that place I was at the funeral, I can't function. Before the viewing ceremony here in New York, I started screaming and crying and arguing with my husband. I sat in the tub crying. Amelia was trying to comfort me by pouring water down my back. When she went to lay down, she was terrified. She wet the bed. She's never done that before. When I realized what happened I realized what it meant to be a woman versus a girl. I realized that I had to pull it together because if I didn't she wouldn't. So since that moment, after cleaning up the accident, I've been keeping it together the best I can. When I'm alone, I let the emotions go. But when I'm with my daughter, I soldier on. I ask my angels to hold me up when I feel I'm breaking. My husband stands by my side, strong and comforting. We've moved forward in leaps and bounds. Life is too short. Love is so powerful. My brother's death helped me see that. I thought I knew it, but death always proves how little one knows about anything. I had no idea what I'd write here. I don't even know why I continue to do it. Malcolm didn't even read this blog I don't think. Nobody does, really. But then it isn't for anyone but one person and possibly a few others. One thing Malcolm gave me is hundreds of memories. He was a photographer and he took pictures of everything. He recorded his life and we have them forever. For my daughter I have my words. I have hundreds of letters giving her an idea of who her mother is. This is my record of existence because who knows when its my turn to journey into light. I may die tonight or 100 years from now. But whenever the moment is, I existed in this moment now. I've lost so many in the last couple years, but no loss has been like this. I beg of God not to give me anymore to bear, but at least I know that the years I've spent trying to grasp losing the ones I loved prepared me for losing him, somewhat. At least I've had time to study, meditate, seek solace and understanding from my mentors and I've grown a spiritual foundation that's been a rock for me. And this pain, this too, shall pass. He was loved. That's really all I can say. Fred Malcolm St. John McCormack (1980-2008).
Other posts honoring him are here and here.

Comments

  1. Anonymous1:09 AM

    Oh fran, all i can say is i'm sorry. You are loved and surrounded by our prayers.

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  2. Anonymous10:08 PM

    You are so right in saying that love is powerful. Just know that you are loved by a host of family and friends. Please take some comfort in knowing that you, your thoughts, and your writings are an inspiration to many... more than you can imagine. I'm sad and sick about my little cousin journeying into light, and I don't know if and when this sadness will ease up. But I go to sleep knowing that he knew how much he was loved by us. I love you. Please continue to write. Kemi

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  3. Francia,
    Your brother's Light continues long after his passing from this plane. I hope that the intensity of the pain passes and your heart comes through the pain into peace.

    Sending you love and keeping you in my thoughts and prayers. I hope your Baby had a happy 3rd birthday.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Anonymous12:50 PM

    dear Fran,

    I am so sorry for the loss of your brother, Malcolm. You will be in my thoughts and prayers.

    Cynthia
    MADD Georgia

    ReplyDelete

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