The House



The top photo is of the Ocean Bowl Skate Park in Ocean City, Maryland. The house, above, is a block away from the skate park. This is the location where I last saw my brother. He had been in OC with his long-time friend, Dave. I stopped by the skate park to watch them skate, as they've done for years. It was May of 2006. Specifically, the final vision I have of my brother is him kicking and coasting along on his skateboard on the street, in front of this house—which, if I'm not mistaken, was/is owned by a friend of his— while I drove away, waving good-bye. I swear to God (which I truly do not say lightly), I remember thinking it might be the last time I see my brother. I actually had that thought. I don't know why. I didn't know why at the time. I remember having that thought and skeptically dismissing it because it was such a crazy thing to think, ...right? 

The snapshot I have of him skating by is so vivid and I will forever cherish it. I will never forget how he looked: smiling, optimistic, excited to go to the bowl and make more videos of Dave and the other guys skating the ramps; his hair was blowing away from his face as he kicked. He had such a great time in OC. It was a beautiful moment, really. If I had to choose one vision to be the last of my brother, it would either be of him throwing clay, fishing, or skating. Luckily, I have photos of him doing all of those things he loved, and a final, wonderful memory of him enjoying life and having a good time. Amen, bruddah, amen.

Another December

Even if you don't usually spend time praying, giving yourself a moment to sit in silence will help get you through the holiday season. It's difficult to see all the commercials of happy families sharing Christmas morning together or watching people in stores smiling with their Santa hats as they shop, but just remember— you are not alone. There are millions of people worldwide experiencing the holiday season—be it for the first time or the fiftieth— without a loved one. You are not alone.

Here's an excerpt from Healing After Loss by Martha Whitmore Hickman:

Dec 8
In the flurry of the coming weeks I will try to spend a few minutes each day in prayerful silence—my own particular stay against the emotional and physical tumult of these days.