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.