Some days it just stands on my chest like an elephant. My mind races and I run through the list of the “what if” and the “if I only could of”. I’m rational enough to know that there was nothing I could have done differently, but still the mind wanders and I beat myself up and I want to go back in time just enough to have a conversation.
I must have been wearing it on my face today. We were having chips and a margarita (I was having root beer) at perhaps the darkest, windowless bar I have ever been in and as we got up to leave the bartender threw out his hand and offered me condolences. That just doesn’t ever happen to me. Then tonight while I was walking the dog, a woman whom I’ve never seen before called me by name and said she had a t-shirt for me. She had been trying to figure out how she would get it to me and there I was wandering up the street with my furry son.
It was a day of connection with my Brother. Amy and I visited him at Hollywood Forever this morning. It’s become my weekly visit. I talk to him. And I cry. We brought him flowers and organized the flowers, notes, candles, medallions and photos that people from all over the world bring to him. It would make more sense to me if he were at rest in Seattle, but selfishly I am glad he’s close to me here in L.A.
We went home and looked through some old family photos and I thought maybe you’d like to see some of them. I find the more I share with all of you, the more I get out of my own head about all of this. Melding my grief and more importantly my healing, with you and yours, seems to lighten the load.
Check out the pictures. We were just regular kids. A regular family of jokesters and tattle tales. Pigtail pullers and ghost story tellers. There was never a time that we were the perfect family. Whose family is perfect? But we were our family. As siblings, we had a comfort with each other. That comfort never left us, even when we were in different corners of the planet with our own families and lives and dramas. Management and crew would be standing outside my Brother’s dressing room afraid to bother him and I would walk that familiar comfort right passed them and in through the door and give him a hug and kiss him on the cheek. I had an all access pass that I wore on my face and in my DNA. And that’s who we were. I will miss that forever. Forever!!
Please enjoy the photos as I have this afternoon. Thank you for allowing me into your grief, your healing and your worlds.
Peter Cornell, 9/23/17