I woke up crying. And, much to my surprise, I remembered why I was crying—the strange part was that, although I was awake or thought I was. I was still very much in my dream and couldn’t stop crying. I was paralyzed with grief over my younger brother’s death eight years prior. It was December 1996. I was in Houston, Texas, on a business trip.
Through the flood of tears, I only knew one thing, and that was to write fast so I wouldn’t lose any part of the visitation I was now experiencing.
The strange part of this situation is I never remember my dreams, but this was very different. It was my brother reaching out to me to let go, but he seemed so far away as if he was down the road. He told me, “I have to go now.” I said, “I don’t want you to go; I won’t let you go.” He kept telling me, “I should.” I kept crying out for him not to leave me as I continued to sob uncontrollably. I felt many things in the midst of my grief. I felt a sense of joy knowing how much I loved my brother. And he knew it too, but I kept crying uncontrollably. I felt his love for me, so I wrote. It was all I knew to do.
Phil knew I had been hurting badly since his death. He came to help me; of this, I was sure. As young brothers, we helped one another in life, and now he was reaching out to help me. As the day wore on, my faucet stayed on.
I learned about family that day. I realized we are the sum of our family parts, regardless of how big and small the family unit is. And I now had a whole in my soul that could never be filled. I had felt that void. And, in these moments, it was very profound.
The visitation changed me. As much as I missed my brother Phil, I knew he would be with me in ways I never imagined. In that, I took great joy. It is all about love, and in the visitation he left me that in abundance, as painful as it was throughout the day.
The veil closed.
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