My dream-9.10.06

So I read the blog, because you told me to, only I didn't realize what I would be reading until I started. Does that make sense?That day plays over and over in my head. What you said to me, what your mom sounded like. The way your Dad and I were shaking when we hugged each other when I got to his house.I miss him. I miss hearing what's happening with him.And sometimes...I even miss you. The you before. The you that only knew a certain limit of pain. Now you know it's limitless. It can keep going.Luckily - I know - no matter what...you're going to be okay.Love you.


I had to post that because it got to me for some reason. Probably because she knows me better than pretty much anybody. It's good to hear things like that once in awhile.

I had a dream about Bran last night. We went to the Packers/Bears game this weekend. My husband and I. As we were driving up to Green bay in the middle of the night I was starring at the sky. I couldn't help but think about him and if he were watching me at the moment. I kept trying to see his face in the clouds. That sounds so strange. Like a little kid trying to see figures in the clouds to pass the time. That's what I was that night. Brandon went to Green Bay with my husband only a 2 months prior to his death. They stayed in the same hotel. I couldn't help but think thoughts about him visiting since he knew the place. Since he had been not even a year before. He was sick at the time but we didn't know it. They went with hopes of finding tickets but didn't. He still had a great time. Last night while staying at the hotel I had a dream that he was here. My dream-I walked into the house to find him with some other people sitting on the couch. I don't remember who the other's were. He was sitting in the corner by the arm. On our new couch. The one we only got after his death. I asked him what he was doing here. He replied "they fixed me". Then he proceeded to tell me about something they put in his stomach to make him better. To make him come back to life. In my dream all the bad shit happened. The death. The funeral. The months since. All of it. But he was still here. And it wasn't scary and for some reason it was a miracle. It was real. He was sent back to us. To enjoy the rest of his life. The life that he deserved.

I'm sitting here alone tonight for the first time in a long time. Madison is with my mom and Mike is @ work. I should be going to sleep since I haven't slept much in the past couple of days. I have to work int he morning and I'm heading up to Green Bay right after work. I have a very long day ahead of me. But instead I'm sitting here. Relaxing. And letting it all out. I don't get to do that often. I should have a bottle of wine but I won't go that far since I have to work tomorrow. I'm watching a slideshow of pics of Brandon and listening to Brad Paisley's "when I get where I'm goin". Not a good thing to listen to? I know. But it helps. It helps me let it out.

I've been thinking a lot today for some reason about my relationship with God. I've never really had a serious one. I've grown up (not due in any part to my parents or my raising) being scared of religion and God. An ex helped me at least gain somewhat of a relationship with God but it wasn't until Brandon's death that I really felt a connection to Him. Strange as it may sound. I know that some people questions Him. Especially when something such as death happens close to them. But not me. I've always had to be difficult and different than the rest of the world.

I know that although I questions why sometimes still that God has given me a lot to be thankful for. He has given me a better husband than the majority of the population and the most beautiful baby girl ever. I know that hard times only make you stronger. I have grown to realize that all hard times DO happen for a reason and that we have to accept the hard in order to enjoy the good.

I do still question however why Brandon's death had to be MY lesson learned???

To my lil cousin

this blog is just everywhere. I started it with the intentions of writing to relieve some of the pain caused by my brother's death but I've decided to write about anything and everything...

I was looking at my lil cousin's myspace today. She's not lil anymore. She is actually 14 and it scares the hell out of me because I know how I was when I was her age. What I did to be more precise. As I was reading everything on her page I realized that she is a lot like me when I was young. Everyone has always said that she is exactly like me but I never saw it until recently. She's "in love". So "in love" it's pathetic. Ha. She's 14! I wish that young people would listen when adults tell them that they don't know anything and they don't know what love is. Because they really don't. I wish that I would have listened. Not that my life isn't good. With the exception of my brother being gone I have everything that I ever dreamt of. The guy I always wanted and a beautiful daughter. Great friends. A nice house. And a head that is on a straight as it can be given the circumstances. What upsets me is that I now know that if she would only listen she would not endure the kind of pain and regret she's setting herself up for.

I always thought I was in love. Always. I say always as tho there were many guys. There wasn't. Only a few contrary to popular belief. Which is something I'm very proud of. I feel completely in love with the second guy I had sex with. My had an on again, off again kinda relationship for many years. It only ended when he finally left for the military. I knew I loved him. I knew he loved me. I thought that him leaving would somehow lesson the love we had for each other. I thought that we were better off apart. As "friends". We weren't friends. We didn't talk to each other for 5 1/2 years. I got married and he stayed with the girl he ended up with after we broke up. The one that put up with his cheating and bullshit for many more years than I did. I still wonder why he stayed with her. He always answers that it was comfortable and he didn't care. It makes me question how a person can be like that but then I have to remember that I did it too. All the while thinking and dreaming of him.

When we finally talked again it was instant. Love that is. It was still there. I knew it was for me. Not only did he tell me it was for him but I could tell. It took being in each other's presence for 1 night. He's always told me that he never talked to me because he still loved me but he didn't see the point. He thought I was happy without him. I was never truly happy without him. I actually compare the way I feel now having lost my brother to the years I spent without him. The only difference is talking to him was a choice I had. The feelings were all very similar.

I just hope that this cousin of mine realizes that there is no need to try to rush love. No need to try to make it happen. It will happen. If you let it be it will happen. It's true what they say-what's meant to be will always find a way!

I actually think that quote is on my friend's myspace. Sorry, I didn't steal it! I just remembered that. :)

I had never had a good relationship with my mom. It is only recently that we have become close. We still aren't as close as I hope to be with my children but we have come a long way in the past few years. When my parents got divorced I moved in with my dad. I didn't talk to my mom for almost an entire year.

My mom wasn't the only one that I had those feelings about. Feelings as though something could have been done. I blamed everyone at some point during the next week. I blamed my dad for not doing something Sunday night and for yelling at him like he did. I blamed Brandon for doing drugs. I blamed the neighbor that found him for not calling 911 sooner. I even blamed Madison and my husband. Indirectly. Mostly I blamed myself. I had so much going on that I wasn't taking care of him like I did in the past. I should have taken him to the hospital Sunday afternoon.

It seems as though I was always the one that took care of Brandon. We both moved in with my dad when my parents got divorced. Brandon was still young enough that it was court ordered he stay with my mom every other weekend. But when he wasn't with my mom I was the one taking care of him. I always made sure that he had money for whatever he needed. I made sure he went to school and tried to get him to stay out of trouble. I am the one that took him to get his senior pictures taken. His death has made me feel like I failed. Him.

I put all my energy that week into making his funeral what I thought he would want it to be. I'm sure it wasn't exactly what he would have wanted. I know there are things that he would have done differently. But I also know that I did the best I could. I slept a total of maybe 24 hours that entire week. Maybe. I was scared of not knowing what had actually happened and not knowing what the future was going to be like without him. We had to wait for the autopsy before we would know what caused his death. Thoughts of suicide went through all of our minds. Thoughts of a drug overdose. Deep down I knew that it was neither of those. I knew my brother too well to think that he would kill himself. He wasn't that kind of person. Not matter what he knew he always had me. An overdose was possible but I knew it wouldn't have been intentional. We didn't actually get the autopsy results until after his funeral. Weeks after. His death was caused mainly by gastritous. He also had Zanax in his system. He was on prescription pills for his Bypolar. I will never know if those are what his doctor prescribed. But the relief of actually knowing that he didn't do it to himself was good.

Part III-Telling a mother her son has died

Mike, Madison and I were suppose to go to my mom's that day. I don't remember why. I knew that she and Lewie had planned on shopping all day. Christmas was only 6 days away. I called to see if they were home yet. I acted as tho nothing was wrong. Said that I was just checking to see if they were home yet and that we would be on our way. Jessica and Mike went with me. There was no way that I could have done it without their support.

As you walk into my mom's house you walk through an entry/laundry room then a short hall into the kitchen. I was very scared. How was I going to tell a mother her son was dead? I walked in slowly. I didn't want to go. It felt as though something was pushing me. Maybe Mike was. I'm not sure. Or maybe Brandon. As I stopped in the kitchen doorway Mike and Jessica walked around me. Jessica took Madison into the living room. Mike came back into the kitchen. My mom was standing at the counter. I think she was making coffee. I said "I have something to tell you and I don't want to." She was in very good spirits. It was Christmas. Everyone is in good spirits around Christmas. But she was about to hear something that would forever ruin every Christmas from then on. I started crying. I couldn't talk. I couldn't breath. She kept asking me what it was. "Is something wrong with you?" she asked. I shook my head. "With Madison?" I seemed to mutter a no that time as I shook my head. Madison was only in the hospital three weeks prior for a few days. She had a bladder infection. Since she was only a month old they kept her and did many tests on her. I could see why my mom would think that it was Madison. I felt at the time like I had wanted to be able to tell her that Madison had another. A bladder infection isn't as bad as death. That's what I was thinking. My mom came to me. She put her arms around me and gave me a hug. I couldn't seem to say anything. All that I could do is cry. And cry harder. And when I cry, I loose my breath. As she pulled away from me I said "it's Brandon". She said "what wrong with Brandon" in a tone that wasn't expecting what she was about to hear. That was expecting something simple. Something smaller than what I was making it out to be. She again asked "what's wrong with Brandon". I seemed to get it out that time. I said "he's dead".

My mom started screaming and fell to the floor. I started crying harder. She was screaming "no" as if since she was the mom and she said no it would all be ok. It would be untrue. She was saying "I knew it" as though she had known something. These words made me somewhat angry. I didn't let her know. I felt as though she knew something that nobody else did. As though she could have prevented something. As though she could have done something differently that would have changed the outcome of my brother's life.

Part II-Monday December 19th, 2005

I woke Monday morning around 10-10:30. I hadn't slept well. Madison was hungry and needed changing. She and I moved to the couch to sleep. Mike worked nights. I often moved to the couch in the morning so that we didn't wake him. I had an uneasy feeling. I thought about calling Brandon. He was always an early riser so I knew he would be up. I talked myself out of it. Telling myself that he was ok and I would call him later. I was tired and wanted to go back to sleep. I worried too much and was sure that this time was no different than the others. Once Madison feel back asleep, I did too.

I woke around 3 pm. My dad was sitting on the couch next to me and my Uncle Mike was standing over me. I was dreary. Not quite awake. I knew, however, that something was wrong. Never had my dad and my Uncle shown up like that together. They should have both been at work at that time. Before I sat up I heard my dad's words so unclearly but I didn't want him to repeat them. "Bran's dead" he said. Those words, although extremely harsh in my mind, seemed to be the only my dad could get out. I started screaming. I knew it was true but I didn't believe him. I was screaming at him. "No he's not" I repeated. I heard my Uncle say "Mike, get the baby before she smashes her". I had forgotten that my beautiful 6 week old daughter was laying next to me. As strange as this word sounds to me, I was thrashing back and forth on the couch. Up and down. Every few minutes my dad would grab me. He has a way of holding me when I'm upset so that I can't move. He's done it many times.

I don't remember how long that had gone on. I remember gaining control and I began to ask questions. When? Why? How? Where? All of them. Neither of them had many answers. They told me what had happened in the hours previous that I had been sleeping. My dad told me that someone had to tell my mom. He asked if I wanted to do it or if I wanted he or my Uncle to go with me. That's when I put up my defense and the strength came out of me. I hadn't even thought about my mom until that point. But I knew I had to be the strong one. The one to get my parents, myself and everyone else through this. The most difficult time any of us would probably ever face. I said that I was going to go to my mom and tell her. My dad and Uncle had to go. My dad said that he had to do some things. I knew that he just had to get away. Being around me, I knew, made it harder on him. Seeing me that way. I talked with Mike for a few minutes. I don't know what about. I had to call my mom but first I had to call my best friend.

"Jessica?" That's what I alwasy called her when it was important or I was being serious. "Brandon's dead." I had used the same harsh words that my dad had just spoken to me. Jess thought it was a joke. Obviously that isn't how a normal person would tell their best friend that their brother had died. But I guess that's me. She came right over. I had to also call Andrea. She was suppose to be stopping by his apartment. I hoped that she hadn't heard anything yet. I called and we bullshitted for about 5 minutes about what she had been doing. I asked her if she had called Bran yet. She said that she was going to give him a call as soon as she dropped her boyfriend off at work. Which is what she was on her way to do at the time I called. I told her not to call him. I said "he died". We talked for a little longer but she was going to meet me at my dad's in a little while. I had to go tell my mom.

Part 1-Sunday December 18th, 2005

Lately I've been feeling ok. I feel as tho it's wrong for me to feel ok but I have been. Occasionally I will get a gut wrenching feeling and begin to tear up. I've learned however, to hold it in so it isn't a full blown cry. Today as I was sitting on the porch swing I thought about my dad telling me my brother was dead.

Sunday evening Brandon had come to the house to pick up his laundry I had done for him. He was wearing army pants and a blue tshirt. He looked like something had taken control of him. Something out of the oridnary. My first thoughts were that he had done some kind of new drug. Something that he hadn't done before. He had always smoked pot. He had occasionally taken prescription pills and I know that he had also tried ecstasy and acid a few times. But this was different. I knew the Brandon that was "high". It wasn't him that day. I kept asking him what was wrong with him. Even Mike said that he wasn't his usual self. He was acting strangely. He was on the floor with the dog playing. Him playing with the dog on the floor was not unusual but the way he was doing it that day was. He asked if he could change Madison's diaper. I wouldn't let him. He argued that he knew how to change a diaper. I knew he did. I'd seen him do it before. That wasn't what was stopping me from letting him change her. It was the way he was acting. I couldn't take the chance of him letting her fall off the changing table.

I listened as he went to the basement to call a friend. I overheard him screaming at his friend about a gun the guy had borrowed. He said that he was going to pick the gun up. He would be there in a few minutes. I called my dad. I told him that Brandon was acting funny and asked him to come over right away. I didn't know what he was on but he wasn't acting himself at all. I stopped him as he was getting into his car. "Bran I'm gonna go with you". "Why" he asked as tho he knew I was up to something. I told him that I had to wait a few minutes. Mike's cousin was visiting and her mom was on her way to pick her up. He said he would wait in the car for me. As I stood in the house watching out the window I saw my dad pull up and jump out of the car before he actually put it in park. I heard them screaming at each other and I saw my dad push him. As I walked out my dad had taken his keys and thrown them across the driveway. He was yelling "I don't know what you're on but you're not driving anywhere. If you need your gun that badly your sister can drive you over there." Brandon was crying. I could hear it in his voice. He was sniffling and wiping his eyes. My dad didn't see it. He kept yelling at him. "You're on something. Why do your eyes look like that?...and your nose is running". I knew those things weren't from the "drugs". I started to believe that maybe he was really sick but I didn't know how he could be so sick or what kind of sickness would cause you to act like a different person. Brandon started walking down the street. He said he was going to walk home. He said that he hated my dad. My dad for the first time had acted concerned with my brother's drug habit. He said that "tomorrow" he was going to admit him to a rehab. He told Brandon that we were worried and concerned for him. That's why we didn't want him to drive.

My dad told me to let him walk home. He said that we would let him blow off some steam and talk to him about it the next day. He told me not to worry.

About an hour later my a friend of my brother's pulled in. I was on the phone with my dad at the time. I watched as Brandon got out of the car and into his own. He got something out. He came up to the door. I let him in and started questioning him more. He was still crying. He could barley breath he was crying so hard. He got his clothes and he told me thank you for doing his laundry. I asked him what was wrong with him and told him that I wanted to take him to the hospital. I don't remember what he said about going to the hospital at that time. He said he was going home and as he walked away to leave I yelled at him. "I have my own kid now Brandon. I can't take care of you anymore!" I didn't realize that those painful words would be the last I said to my brother.

I sat up most of the night. Worried. I called one of my best friends and asked her to check in with Brandon the next day. I told her my concerns and she said that she would be sure to give him a call. Brandon was like a brother to her. I knew she would do it.