The Death Of My Brother And I Spent My Last Days

990 WordsDec 13, 20164 Pages
Three months prior, my brother and I spent our last days in the home we grew up in, combing through the wreckage left behind by the movers. Attempting, without success, to decipher what leftover had value, both monetary and sentimental. By the time we had loaded up the U-Hall to its brim, the content of its belongings were far more in the latter. Pieces of time we refused to let go. Since then, sleep had been hard to come by. In the pit of my stomach was an aggressive, aching nausea that fought with me regularly into the early morning hours. Worst of all, was the feeling that something important had been left behind, something irreplaceable. For weeks I told myself that I would find time to go back, to gather whatever that may be. The fear of witnessing the destruction held me hostage, still a greater force at that point than the pain of withdrawal. Lights out, and I was swallowed back into the overwhelming darkness of the basement. My ears began to ring as they adjusted to the silence. I was motionless, basking in this improvised echo chamber as it numbed my senses. In that moment, equilibrium was finally reached between exhaustion, fear, pain, and despair. Each element of the equation had finally cancelled out the other: absolute zero. It wasn’t the solution, but a method to isolate what needed to be solved. There was a sum, a missing element, that I was finally ready to encounter. It was time to go home, to fill this void and take back what was mine. I grabbed my keys,

More about The Death Of My Brother And I Spent My Last Days

Open Document