Life is short and no one knows which day will be their last.  We never know when our last words to someone will be exactly that and what those words will be.  Yesterday was the fifteenth anniversary of my brother’s death. It got me to thinking about time and how much we waste it.  We need to stop taking time for granted and start living and appreciating what we have.  Tell your loved ones every day that you care because you never know when those words will be your last. 

Trivial Nothings

We all do it.  We yell and scream at the people we love not thinking that this may be the last time we will ever speak to them again.  We go to bed angry, assuming that when we wake up the next morning, our loved ones will still be there.   I made that assumption.  I fought. I name called.  I slammed doors.  The next time I seen him, he was laying in a casket.  He was my brother.

It was the day before my birthday.  My brother was in the living room sorting through his music collection.  I really can’t say what we were fighting over.  I said this. He said that; trivial nothings, that’s what I call them.  I went on my way with a snide remark and a huff.  And that was it.  It was all over.

Fast forward thirty six hours.  I am sitting in a funeral home staring at my brother wearing a suit.  He hates suits.  He’s lying in a casket.  I hate caskets.  I stare at his chest, thinking that I see it move, hoping that it does.  It doesn’t.  He’s dead.  I was given a dead brother for my birthday.  Then I remembered...

Rewind back thirty four hours.  I get a phone call telling me to come home right away.  Something is desperately wrong; I can feel it deep inside.  I get home and find out that my brother is gone.  He left work early with his friend and they went fishing.  Now they’re dead.  My mother sobs; my father slams his hand on the kitchen table and starts yelling at someone; God, I guess.  I leave.