My Bro

During my visits to Arizona to see Kenny and his family, he and I used to go to the Casino; it was one of our guilty obsessions. Correction, my obsession, his way of passing the time. I'm a mean gambler when I lose my cash. I mean, I don't snap at people per se (there are those who will disagree); it's more like an unidentifiable thing that comes over me. I get ornery, kind of like a quiet drunk. For those that don't know me, the subtle changes in my demeanor are practicably unnoticeable, teeny tiny horns protruding from the sides of my head, feral noises in place of normal communication. Debbie and I were driving home from the Emerald Queen one night and all I could focus on was how empty my wallet was and the gum my then thirty-something niece was smacking on (loud). "So," she was saying in between smacks, "that was fun." I remember thinking, if she didn't stop smacking on that gum I was going to pull her lips over her face. I kid you not, it was just a thought, I never verbalized my desire to harm her. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw her roll down the window and toss the gum out. Later she confided she'd felt my negative vibes and it was scary. She doesn't like to go to the Casino with me. I think she feels my aura's a bit cloudy.

Kenny was one of the few people who wasn't afraid to go with me. Hey, he'd taken karate for years, and before going back into the navy he'd worked in a prison with hardcore criminals. Guess he felt like he was properly trained to take his big sis down if things got ugly. So on this particular trip to the casino, he'd bravely taken on the job of monitoring my comings and goings to the ATM, bless his heart. "So" he says, "the plan is that once the money in our hands is gone, we leave. Right?" Again, bless his heart. Of course I nodded my head in agreement. Money gone, we go. Got it. He didn't need to know about the cash I'd stuck in the secret compartment of my wallet. Okay fast forward about 40 minutes into our visit with me sitting at a Cleopatra nickel slot machine, that's devoured all of my money, weaping like an infant. Time for a visit to an old friend. I needed to get to an ATM without him seeing me. Not that I was afraid of him mind you.

So like a secret agent and because I have a real flare for the melodramatic, I checked up and down the isles, meandered at a Texas Tea nickel machine pretending to play until I saw the coast was clear. I turned the corner and saw the nearest ATM within range and cut a path directly toward my objective. My plan was to get the money I needed and when Kenny came back to check on me I'd casually...well, lie and tell him I'd been playing with the same $60 (win some, lose some) since he left me. So I started out stealthily making my way across the crowded, smoke filled room, looking to the right, then left, no sign of him. Coast is clear, destination straight ahead. The light on the ATM worked like a beacon for me, completely whipped it's calling to me like a lover I can't quit. Unfortunately, I didn't notice the guy sitting with his back to the ATM, my brother. Dang, so very close. But wait, he was so involved in his own machine that he wasn't paying any attention to Lil' ole me. I was able to walk right past him, access my 4-digit code (short prayer of thanks that money actually came out this time), grab the cash and make a b-line back to my machine. He showed up about 10 minutes later, just as my machine was getting ready to rock 'n roll'; I got the 3 coins, then free spins and bam...JACKPOT!

Oh by the way, we'd actually stopped at the casino on the way to the airport. I almost missed my flight that night because after sharing some of my winnings with Kenny (he did the same with his winnings in the past) of course he had to go back to the machine he was on where he promptly lost every bit of it.

I ended up running through the airport like OJ running from the cops and just barely made my flight. But oh man was I on a role. My layover was in Los Vegas. Best layover ever! Upon disembarking the plane I immediately found my favorite machine, sat down and won $250. Cha ching! Of course I had to call Kenny and brag about it. He kept calling me back after that to say in a monotoned voice, "Move away from the machine."

The next time I visit Arizona I won't be going to that casino or any other casino, because I know I will find myself pathetically looking over the crowd for Kenny, who always stood head 'n shoulders over everybody, literally. He won't be there, not ever. Wrapping my mind around the reality of never seeing him again is incredibly difficult. I can't quite get hold of it just yet. He wasn't just my brother, he was my friend too. When I last saw him in the hospital, he'd been given the news that his time was very short. His younger daughter, standing outside his room with Joan to comfort her, was heartbroken and inconsolable. Her sobbing just about broke me; she was too young for this kind of suffering. The sound of her weeping echoed down the halls of the facility, so I tried to close the doors to keep him from hearing. He told me to keep the door opened, "You can't protect me from my child's pain." And then he asked me if I was alright. Do you hear me? He asked me if I was alright? All I could do was nod my head and say, "You know I love you right?" There were so many things I wanted to say to him but at that moment, the words were lost to me. I wish I'd been able to bring him some comfort. I felt so incredibly, stupidly useless as a big sister. Still do. Maybe that's part of my problem. I can't seem to move past this. If I could just talk to him one more time, but I know that's not possible. I'm not by any means suffering depression. I function the way I'm expected to. I'm completely aware of what I'm feeling and why. This unbelievably special man, was not just anybody's brother, he was our brother and that was pretty darn special in our now shattered world.

I know I don't have a monopoly on this thing called grief. I don't want to. But everybody processes differently. I'm still processing my way, the way I process everything my way. The normal I once new is no longer available. I need to find a new normal. I now exist in a world where my mom and my brother know longer do. For God's sake, I still find myself looking through a crowd of faces for the two most familiar and precious to me, knowing I'll never find what I'm looking for. How insane is that? And sometimes I feel somewhat guilty for how I feel, like a child that's not developing at the same rate as the other children. My mom died over 4 years ago and my heart is still heavy; my brother died almost 10 months ago and still emotionally each day is a struggle. I want to pick up the damn phone, call him and hear his voice on the other end. As long as I still remember the number, he should be there to pick it up!

My eyes are so blurred I can't even see the letters on the keyboard to type any more words. This was incredibly difficult. I'll stop now.