My brother David Charles died a week ago. I've been trying to figure out how to feel. I've cried a couple of times but most of it wasn't directed at losing him. It was more because I'm a selfish c*nt (as one guy recently called me) who is more concerned with her own personal situation than the loss of her brother. Truth be told (and any amateur Dr. Phil-type could deduce) it's because I'm avoiding the breakdown.
But I'm not sure one is coming. I'm not the kind of emotional girl you'd think I am. I'll willingly give up details of my professional life, sex life, love life & spiritual life - in a heartbeat - but when it comes to things really personal to me, really personal, I don't give it up. It's so odd. It should be the reverse. Then again, I've never been capable of 'normal.'
I miss my brother but more than miss him I have a tremendous amount of guilt associated to his last days. My brother Roger called me to say Dave had maybe days to live. I booked a flight home the next morning. Turns out that wasn't soon enough. While I was having a distracting dinner with Trubes @ Seablue, he died. Just after 8.00p. Trubes and I went to go smoke. I left my BlackBerry at the bar. When I got back I missed 2 calls with a message from my sister-in-law Kath. I didn't need to listen to her message or call her back to know what happened. David had died. I wasn't there.
Trubes was great. She knew exactly what I needed. A tiny amount of 'I'm sorry' and a huge amount of normalcy - and champagne. We left there shortly after and I was set to go home but instead I called my BFF Rodney who I knew was at my pal Chris' birthday party @ RiRa. I shouldn't have gone over but I did. I wanted to feel numb and I hadn't nearly accomplished my goal.
I get to RiRa and immediately see Tequila-guy. He's by far, leaps and bounds the best looking man I've ever casually dated. Like ridiculously gorgeous. 6'4", 240, great dresser, athletic, Irish, successful, good midwest kid, fun - a total MAN. I call him Tequila-guy because he owns a tequila company among other things. Did I mention he's hot? This is going to be a bad night for me. I can feel the affects of the champagne already and I know there are many more shots & Jamesons in my future. Very long story short, I get drunkety-drunk drunk drunk and Tequila-guy is incredibly decent with me. Much more so than I deserve. He proves to be a better man every time I'm around him. At some point Rodney takes me home. Thank God for him. I wake up the next day hungover and feeling as empty as my fridge.
At some point that night I text Counselor, "I need you." It being a Tuesday he was asleep and didn't respond until Wednesday morning. He was a good man and took care of me from about 8.30p Wednesday night until Friday morning @ 8.30a. And by take care I mean he fed me, got me drunk, held my hand, slept next to me and held me tenderly. It was the best 36 hours I'd ever spent with him. He was smart, witty, sweet, touching, funny, loving - all the things you want from the love of your life. Unfortunately that was the last time I spoke to him. And equally as unfortunate, I am not the love of his life. He was so dear and loving to spend time with me but the loss of him was almost harder than the loss of my brother. Stupid, selfish, I know but it might have been easier if I hadn't seen him at all. Strange, but it's hard to miss what you never had.
Counselor is noted for saying sweet things to me and not following through. He said he'd take me to Pasa Robles, to take me to numerous restaurants, to go to my VP's post-holiday bash with me but... Friday came and went, then Saturday came and he never called or text. I guess our relationship is like a car. Once the tank is empty we go no where. I had no intention of sitting around on Saturday night so I hopped in the shower and drove over to the party.
Once there I'm awkwardly out of sorts. I can be social at a convent but this time I'm uncomfortable and feel out of place - like I have a huge facial scar and no one wants to make eye contact. There are only a few people there who know what happened so this is all in my mind. Eventually I make my way to the bar for some liquid courage - champagne never lets me down.
It about 2 hours later and I get a weird tingling. No, it's not the affects of alcohol. I turn around and I see him. Tequila-guy. I'm so happy to see him because I've wanted to apologize for my behavior. Last time I saw him @ RiRa I was a drunk idiot. He deserves better than that. Luckily - and much to his credit as a decent man - he told me not to worry about it. He surprises me with his class. Not many men have that anymore.
Several hours later the police show up at the party, surprisingly not because of anything I've done but because of the noise. I don't blame the neighbors. It's almost 1.30a and the DJ is still playing bad 80s music - loudly. Rodney, once again this week, takes me home. We leave before Tequila-giu and luckily I don't do anything embarrassing to him or to myself.
I spent Sunday and Monday alone. I have so many friends and have never had a more active social life in my 40 years and I've never felt so alone. That, alone, makes me want to cry. I know my brother would understand; I'm not sure I do though. Maybe that's why I'm still here. I still need time to figure it out. Nothing Else Matters.
