It may seem appropriate, helpful, and normal to say, “Just tell it to stop”…
But PTSD doesn’t work like that.
Sometimes the enemy comes with spiraling negative thoughts of destructive lies.
But sometimes what surfaces begs to be remembered.
Sometimes we don’t get the Why until later, if at all.
No one ever really asks me about what happened with my brother.
That’s okay.
But no one ever asks me about all the good in him either.
And that makes me sad.
The things that fall through the cracks.
The memories of joy in between the chaos.
The Biblical meaning of his name is: “Appointed” or “Placed”.
A chosen figure. Used for God’s purpose. After Cain killed Abel. To carry on the lineage.
Though in Egyptian mythology he is the god of chaos and destruction; storms and deserts.
A brother and murderer associated with violence, disorder, and natural disaster.
To me, he was both.
I reminisce and weep silently over photos of faces I feel like I never even knew.
His grew sad and fearful, fast, at an early age; his eyes changed vividly.
I wonder what happened to him, my big brother.
I wonder when, he must have been so young.
Maybe it was just heavy being first-born.
We all came so fast afterwards. Maybe he got lost.
Maybe no one remembered to see him.
Maybe he had to do too much to survive too soon.
What weight was he carrying? Who’s weight?
Everyone’s? Mom, dad, the 3 siblings birthed before he was 5, the 1 adopted after with special needs.
Where did you go, Seth?
When no one saw you… Or came to save you… Hold you… Teach you… Love you…
I remember swimming in the river, I was maybe 8 or 9, Seth was 13 or 14…
The undercurrent or Eddy grabbed me, and although a strong little swimmer, it pulled me under…
I’d never been caught in something so forceful and devouring before, I remember it felt hopeless to even fight for life.
When my big brother shoved me onto his shoulder, drowning himself in my place.
I didn’t even think twice, I just used him to lift myself up, swimming with all my might, pushing him down below me.
I’d have been nothing without him in that moment, I instinctively climbed his shoulders to safety.
He would’ve drowned for me. To save me. He almost did.
Some of it was chaos. Our lives.
Some violence, destruction, disorder.
Sometimes it was a desert.
Sometimes it was a storm.
Sometimes family hurts you.
Sometimes family saves you.
We’re all just trying our hardest to do our best.
With what little we have and what little we know.
We are lucky we even survived to tell about it.
How I never stopped loving you.
Lately when I cry it’s because I miss my kids.
But today I’m sad because I miss the kids we never got the chance to be.
The kids we were before disaster stole everything.
You Are My Stars 