My sister-in-law once said that in some ways it's harder for us missing Danny than for her. She went on to explain that she could get married again, but we won't be getting another son or another brother. Personally if I had a choice between losing a brother and a husband, I would choose a brother. But then, of course it's pointless to compare pain anyways, because that doesn't lead to compassion or help.
I miss my brother.
Yesterday must have been a good day for my sister-in-law because she wrote about the excitement of some day dating again. I sit here and I feel no excitement. I would be very glad for my neices and nephews to grow up with a dad, and I don't want Liisa to be lonely. I wish it could be my brother.
Sometimes I think about the plans Eric and I have made and wonder what I would do if he died. If he dies while I am still in the east, would I move west? I would still want to go, but I would be absolutely crazy to go. Maybe I wouldn't even want to. Who leaves a place surrounded with friends and support and travels to the middle of nowhere -- where they don't know anyone -- in the middle of a crisis. I would have to go where I didn't know anyone or they might feel like they had to take care of me and the boys. Then I would have to learn how to do everything for myself.
What would I do for income? Who could I trust to watch the boys if I needed to go somewhere? This is a crazy idea.
Realistically when someone dies your whole life changes. Even what you thought you wanted changes.
That reminds me of a song.
Yesterday's gone Sweet Jesus,
And tomorrow may never be mine.
Lord, for my sake, teach me to take,
One day at a time.
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