Alex B

If you have been paying attention, you will probably have realized by now that I've been struggling a bit lately with my brother's death.  I'm quite convinced that the reasoning for this is because the ten-year anniversary has been looming, and, though I shouldn't put stock in such things, that milestone has made me more cognizant that he's gone.

And so, without further ado, the day is finally here.  Yep, you guessed it.  Happy Freaking Thanksgiving.  (hear that?  It's the sound of salt being rubbed in an open (albeit decade-old) wound)

Yes, he is fishing for boxes of beer.  Bet he caught them, too...

So, in an effort to cope with what ten years ago became my least favorite holiday, I wrote down the things that, even though so much time has passed, routinely remind me of my brother.

Alex, I remember you when:

• I make Ramen but dump the water and just flavor the noodles.
• I make a wreath out of my spaghetti to heat it evenly in the microwave.
• I see any number of movies, including: The Sandlot, The Rock, Con Air, Big Trouble in Little China, Waterworld (remember the part when he drinks his own pee?), Cool Runnings, The Lord of the Rings, etc. etc.
• I say "oshwam" and really mean "ice cream."
• Someone says, "indubitably."
• I see any kind of graffiti.
• I see Lauren's dog and think "STU-EEEE" with that inflection you made famous.
• Someone talks around the cigarette in his mouth.
• I see pictures of people in the 90s rocking uppercuts and baggy jeans.
• It's Thanksgiving.

Now that the day is finally here, I feel a release.  For whatever reason, the milestones sometimes get you (think about your first family functions or holidays after losing someone you love), but it's the everyday memories that are the strongest and that live on.  These are the ones that bring you comfort.

Today, I'll think of him.  I'll miss him.  I'll repeat.

And then I'll play "Smoke on the Water," grin despite myself, and all will be well.

I will not say, "do not weep," for not all tears are an evil.

-J.R.R. Tolkien