He lived but a day, but a day he lived.
Largely forgotten by his clan, the only memories of him became a weapon. Countless lies became his story, although he had never uttered a single word. His only misdeed seemed to have been his birth, and his memory became fuel to a burning torch. It was a torch used quite painfully.
In his single day of life, he became something he would have never wanted to be. Despite all of the potential blessed to him upon his conception, his day was to be used in ways likely unthinkable to his soul. He deserved so much better.
Despite all of this, he existed as innocently as a human can exist. He was my brother. His name was Steven Paul Evans. I bet even most of my closest family have never heard his name and those who have haven’t spoken it in decades. I wonder if this is a blessing or a curse.
A disclaimer. The purpose of this writing is not to vilify anyone, living or dead. I am writing this to heal, to mend a wound caused by deceit and weaponized love.
On September 12, after my sister’s memorial service, I decided to go on a bit of a cathartic journey, first stopping by my mother’s grave to tell her, and remind myself, that all was forgiven. I spoke words of absolute truth to her memory, and left a piece of regret behind. No, we would not mend our brokenness in this lifetime. I will mend my own, hers would be left to eternity.
I stopped by several family members who have left us, speaking similar silent words of regret and forgiveness when warranted, a “hello” and “I miss you” to all. Memories flooded my soul, and I accepted them in equal measure. I offered my love even if they were not so deserving. My love is mine to give, and I decide who gets it. Forgiveness, to me, opens to door to a much freer exercise of will. It destroys the basket hiding the light. It liberates all things.
Not all catharsis is so painful.
There were moments of levity in this walkabout. I remembered my paternal grandmother-by-marriage (who I considered my grandmother regardless) and her laugh. I stopped by to say hello to her as well, touching her place in my soul with the warmness and kindness she always seemed to offer. The memory of her driving, of her cooking, and of so many other things blessed me with a smile.
There were many moments that were similar reminders that for all the pain of my life, there were great moments of joy, laughter and love. I want to honor each equally as I live my remaining days. My life has had wonderful moments as well as dark ones, and each must be honored with the same attention. In fact, I use the light to heal the darkness and the darkness to bring the light to life.
Finding my brother.
Part of what was on my “need to do” list was find my brother’s grave. It has bothered me for a long time that he was always utterly alone, forgotten by his people and his memory contorted and disfigured. It was important to me that he was no longer forgotten or alone. The narrative needed to change.
I am not one who believes in the afterlife. It’s not that I don’t believe in it, or think it nonsense. I just have no idea if it exists, cannot prove its existence, so I focus on what I can prove. This life must be lived, and if I want to live it to the fullest I cannot be distracted by what may, or may not, exist once it is over.
So in my vision of life, my brother must not be forgotten. He may never know the love of his older sibling but I know it, and I plan to let it roam free.
I scoured the internet often looking for any record of him. Finally, on the “Find a Grave” page, I was able to not only find what cemetery where he was buried but also a location and a picture of his tombstone. It seemed like finding him would be easy, but the cemetery had no map. It turned out not be be as easy as I thought.
Fortunately a dear soul, Bonnie, lived nearby. I can’t overstate how much her kindness and support have meant. Some things are priceless, and she is one of those things. She came over to help, and I admit if felt wonderful not to have to do this alone.
Tommy, I found him!
It took us some time to find him, but when she called out that she had my heart skipped a beat. Soon I was standing beside him, wondering what he looked like in his Day of Life. I stood there just feeling whatever it was that I was there to feel. I mourned him as well as myself, detesting the lies I once believed and promising that he would never again be forgotten or used, and that he would never again be without a brother to remember him.
After a bit, we walked away. I could not help thinking about all the life I’ve wasted and all the potential he would never get to realize. Still, a large part of me felt healed and committed to honoring the brother I never knew. He will be seen each chance I have to see him. He will be remembered each day I think of him.
Part of me wonders if I should be buried next to him; two largely forgotten members of two distinctly different (but the same) clans. I just can’t get there in my mind yet. I still have some living to do.
The Struggle Afterward
The one common feeling that I’ve been struggling with since this past weekend is the feeling of being forgotten. My family has, for the most part, forgotten me. They have no idea who I am or what I’ve done. I am just like my brother but without the tombstone. It saddens me.
My kids are getting older and forgetting me, too. My closest friends, most of whom are back East, haven’t seen me in years. I review the list, and believe most of those I’ve loved in my life have forgotten me. Perhaps it’s just the echo of sadness and depression in all of the loss I’ve felt over the last 30 days, but it is a worthy feeling to contemplate, at least in the short term.
The amazing part about finding my brother is that I was able to discover so much more than just a lost sibling. The death of my sister brought back so many good memories and helped me see those who I have so much love for. The search for my brother allowed me to express who I am in this life, and to be who I choose to be. I cleared away some weeds from tombstones in both the literal and figurative sense, and as a result was able to love in ways I haven’t in some time.
So I shall walk with those lessons for my remaining days, however many of those there are left.
