Nascar Race

I went to the Nascar race this weekend in Brooklyn, Michigan. Something I've done every June for the past 3 years. My husband is a fan. My father in-law and his friends have a company that works the races in Brooklyn for free admittance. They have decided beginning this year that they are giving the profits earned from working to several children's organizations.

We left Thursday. We bought a new camper specifically for race weekends. We had to get up there before the crowd. I was leaving my 7 1/2 month old daughter for 4 days. I was also leaving my father on his birthday and Father's Day. As I was packing all that I could think about was leaving my dad. If Brandon were here they would go fishing or something ungirly so it wouldn't be a big deal. But Brandon wasn't here this year. He won't be again. My dad was not going to see his granddaughter on her first Father's Day either. I began to have doubts about going.

I talked to my husband about it once we got there. I told him my doubts expecting reassurance. He said "Brandon wouldn't be fishing. He'd be here." My husband was right. The entire weekend Brandon was creeping into my mind. Not that he doesn't every minute of every day but he did the entire weekend. While working in the Pits I keep thinking about how much fun he would be having. Not knowing any of the drivers. Not ever thinking too much about Nascar in the previous years.

In August of 2005 he had gone with my husband to the August race. I was 7 months pregnant so I stayed home. After the Saturday night race my husband had called me a couple of times. I'd ask "where's Bran? Is he having fun?". Mike would just say that he was in the infield. The infamous infied. That's all I ever hear about. I've never been. I feel to old to go party the night before I have to get up at 6am. I'm not a morning person. Around midnight that night I was talking with my husband again. I asked about Bran. He was there so he put him on the phone. Brandon said "I got lost for 3 hours. I couldn't find camp." I asked him if he had fun in the infield. He responded with "I saw a lot of tits". I could tell from this comment and his happy tone that he was having a great time. He was drunk. And seeing a lot of tits. For a single man there is no more pleasure.

The entire weekend I had thoughts of him being happy for me. Thinking that he would want me to be there. Friday night I couldn't sleep wondering if he was watching me. I had a feeling that he was there too. I wanted to get my dad and my stepdad Jack Daniels racing shirts. Jack Daniels was Bran's favorite drink. I thought it would mean something but I didn't see any that I liked.

I'm not sure yet if I'll go next June but I'm glad I went this year. I had a good time. My husband and I had some time to ourselves without our daughter. I missed her everyday but it was good for us. Brandon would go if he were here.

A mother's dream

My grandmother passed away March 9th, 2003. A few weeks later I was sitting at my mom's kitchen table with a couple of my aunts. One of them said "did your mom tell you about her dream?". Before she got the complete sentence out my mom walked in and responded with "i'm not going to tell her". I never asked about the dream.

In January of this year I was talking to my mom about my brother's death. About the dreams I had been having, feelings I had and weird happenings around me. My mom said "one of these days remind me to tell you about my dream about grandma". I didn't remind her because I was scared to. I think that part of me thought it might have something to do with my brother and the other part just didn't want her to break down. I was the strong one. The rock. That held my mother and father up. Although I hate it when people do it to me, I was the one that would make the jokes about Brandon whenever either of them would get sad. Brandon would do it. He was always the joker of the family. He always had a "life isn't this serious" attitude. Which is why everyone loved being around him.

About a month ago I was talking to my mom's eldest sister. I mentioned the conversation with my mom about the dream. She said she would tell me but only as long as I promised not to tell my mom she told me.

A few weeks after my grandmother passed away my mom dreamt that she was going to visit my grandfather. At the time he was still living in the apartment he had shared with my grandma but in my mom's dream he was in the same room and apartment he's in now. As she was walking down the hall towards my grandpa's apartment she noticed that there were two chairs sitting across from his door. She got closer and noticed that his door was open. She looked inside to see my grandpa doing something. She turned around and sitting on the chairs across from the apartment sat my grandmother and one of her sisters that had passed away previously. My mom asked them "what are you guys doing here?". My grandmother had her legs crossed with her hands drapped across them as she always did. She was rocking. She answered my mom "I have a secret". My mom responded with the obvious. "What is your secret?". Just then she looked up to see my brother coming down the hall towards her. He seemed rushed. She asked him "Bran what are you doing here?". He said "I came to see grandpa". My mom asked "why are you in such a hurry?". My brother responded with "I've got to see grandpa because I'm going to see grandma".

I chose to be the one to give my mom the news about my brother. My parents had been divorced for years at this point. They weren't very adult about it. I was the only one that should tell my mom. As I walked into her house watching her put stuff away I slowed down. I had talked to her on the phone what seemed like minutes prior. I couldn't tell her on the phone. I had to go to her. She was happy. It was the Monday before Christmas. She and her boyfriend always took that week off to do their shopping and other Christmas duties. My bestfriend, husband and daughter were with me. I couldn't do it alone. I stopped at the doorway and begun to cry as my best friend walked into the living room with my daughter. I looked over at my mom. She was so happy. It was the holiday season. She was a new grandma. I was about to give my mother news that no parent should ever have to receive. I began to cry. I remember her asking me "what's wrong". "Is something wrong with you?" she said. "Is it Madison?". I would only shake my head in response. I finally managed to mutter "It's Brandon". She grabbed me and I started crying harder. She was asking me "what?!" with such sterness as if I had done something wrong. At the time I felt wrong. I did not want to be telling my mother this news. I wish that I could have answered "yes" when she asked if it was me. Quietly and with no thought I said "he's dead". Now when I think back I wish that I had not said it so harshly but I didn't know what else to say. What words were the right ones? I couldn't hold up a 95lb woman. She fell to the floor screaming.

The only thing that I remember her saying at the time is "Lewie!" (her boyfriend) and "I knew it". I wondered what did she know? I wondered if she had thought he overdosed or did it to himself? I wondered if he had said something to her within the past couple days that made her think something was going to happen? I wondered why she didn't do anything to stop it? I wondered why if she 'knew it', why didn't I?

After talking with my aunt I figured it out. My mom had a dream. A nightmare really. She didn't want to face it. It was just a dream. Isn't that what everyone says? These days I wonder if she had told me what would I do? Would I change anything? Would I ignore it? Knowing myself I know that I would take it as a sign for a few days. Until I forgot. I wouldn't take it seriously. Dreams are only dreams. I'm beginning to think otherwise.

He asked me to dance....

Last night I had a dream.

I was all excited for the highschool dance. Had a beautiful black strapless dress on. My hair done perfectly. All that I could think about was the days before and how I had hoped that he would ask me to go with him. He never did. Next I recall sitting at the table. Candles lit and flower petals on the table. Music playing in the background. I look over my shoulder to the right and he's dancing with her. Not even looking my way. I don't know who "her" was but she was beautiful. Long black hair. A perfect body. He was holding her so tight and looking into her eyes. I could see that sparkle in his eyes. The one that he had once had for me. I knew at that moment that he would never have that look in his eyes again when looking at me.

Then I woke up. I felt as though it had really happened. Like the dream was real. Like deja vu. I then began to recall my God awful junior prom. Although it wasn't as bad as I like to say, it was pretty bad. We had broken up some weeks prior. I had a new "boyfriend". If that's what you called him. I can't remember why we had broken up that time. I say "that time" because it happened often. For one reason or another. It happened. I know that I wanted to go to the prom with him but I knew it wouldn't happen. I went to his house the day of because his sister had promised to do my hair and makeup for me. As I was walking out the door, he was getting out of his car. I think he had just picked up his tux. I said "hi". It was returned with a look away. One of those looks when you know the person wants to look but they're not going to let themself. He made his way through the door. Into the house. Never looking back. Watching the whole time, I was hoping that he would give in and come to me. Tell me he wanted me back. Tell me that he didn't want to do this without me. I drove away. Thinking about how akward it was going to be for me to go with my friend and his date. I was the third wheel. The prom was going well. Everyone laughing. Most of the people asking me where "he" was. I was furious with him because I had to say "I don't know". I then spotted his younger sister. We talked for awhile. With him standing there the entire time. He acted as though he hated me. His sister said that another sister told her to promise she would get a picture of he and I together. I never got my copy. He posed for the picture with an unhappy face. I thought that "we" were really over. After the announment of king and queen I was dancing with the friend I had gone with. For almost 7 years I kept every detail of that moment in the back of mind. Remembering once in awhile. Every time I thought about him. Now I can't remember what song was playing. He was coming towards us and I was shaking. I thought for sure he was going to make a scene as he had so many times before. He didn't. He asked my friend if he could dance with me. It was like a dream. I felt like I was in a daze. I felt so much safer than I had moments prior. I felt like that was where I belonged. We finished the song. The night ended and he asked me what I was doing. He asked me if he could join me. He did. While all our friends were at the school for the after party. We had our own. In my friends sunroom. It was one of the best and worst nights of my life. To this day I'm so glad that he let go of his pride and he asked me to dance.

It's friday night. I've already drank half of a bottle of wine. A friend left it here a few weeks ago. I decided that I was tired of looking at it. I don't even like wine. My child is in her bedroom playing. All that I can think about it is how innocent she is. How I'm going to fuck her up in a way I can't even imagine. All parents screw their kids up, right?! I tell myself they do.

I'm waiting for my friend to call. I've been trying to reach her for days. She's been having problems. It makes me wonder why I make my small insecurities out to be the biggest thing to happen in this world. I think I'm overly sensitive to any and everything these days. I have spent my whole life keeping myself from getting hurt. I've done the hurting just so it doesn't happen to me. I don't trust. I don't let myself get close enough to anyone to let them hurt me. Or at least not close enough to let them see that they hurt me. Once upon a time I hurt myself. I publicly displayed my hurt only to be laughed at. I think that's why I try to hold it in. I don't understand why he had to leave me? In the way he did? And at the time? It hurts more than anything I've ever felt. I want to yell at him. I want to hold him. I just want him to be here so that I can do all the things I didn't do when I could. I told him that I couldn't take care of him anymore. Those words run through my mind 10 times a day. Eating at me. Why did I have to say that? I had never said it before. Why did I have to pick that day to tell him that he needed to grow up? Why would I say such a thing anyway? I know he only had me. Just as I had only had him. I want to call him. Tell him that I'm sorry. Explain that my life without him will never be a good one. How can it be? He was everything to me. One of my best friends. I thank God for the time I had with him. But really expected and still want more. The only person that I ever gave all of myself to. He's gone. The only person that I always knew I could count on. The only person that I felt comfortable with no matter what. I don't know why God tests us like he does. It seems inhumane to me. Since he's been gone my insecurities have reached new heights. Uncontrolable heights. If he were here I know what he'd say. "Don't be stupid Kim". I know it. So, although it's extremely hard, I'm trying to live by those words. The words of the greatest guy I've ever known.

A friend told me tonight that I write well. I really don't believe it but it helps me. Ever since my brother died I've been on a rampage. My battles have been solely directed towards my husband. I've actually been nicer to most people than I was before. My battle is actually regarding one thing. One thing that I turn into many things. And many things that always lead to my brother's death. It's so hard trying to deal with your only sibling dying. And at such a young age. I walk through life these days trying to hold back the fear and the pain. I try not to let anyone see it. Only my true friends. I don't even allow my parents to see. I do this because I can't seem to imagine that anyone else has any concern how I feel. People ask me all the time how I'm doing. But do they really care? If I were to say "to be honest I'm doing horrible. I don't want to get out of bed." What do you think people would say? They would say see a therapist. It's true. Because they wouldn't want to deal with my pain. They don't feel it so why and how could they possibly try to imagine it. So many people were there the week of the funeral. But people seem to forget, just as I have with the many funerals that I've gone to, that someone lost somebody very close to them. A brother, a son, an uncle, a friend. After Brandon's death I would drive by a memorial on the road on my way to and from work. A girl that had died in a car accident weeks before Brandon. Every time my eye caught a glimpse of those flowers I immediatley began asking God to be with that child's family and friends. To help them to get through it. Something I had never done until I realized the pain that is felt with a loss. I hope and believe that for the rest of my life I will recognize every memorial I come across.