When The Calendar Hits October

I knew he would show up here today.

This is the time of year when I get in a funk and I always know exactly why.

I can tell myself I need to get over it and move on and that he wouldn't want me to be sad. He would tell me to remember the fun we had and the laughs we shared together.

I can do this some of the time, but never in September. On September 27, 1994, my twin brother Jered died of AIDS.

I always want to look the other way when September starts. I wish it could blow over me like a cloud or that I could sleep for the entire month. In September, I think too much. I think too much of the past.

I got word of how ill he was on labor day that year - 1994, and the whole month was intense – flying up to Seattle where he lived, watching him get better, then me coming back to Cincinnati, then that phone call from his doctor saying I needed to come back right away, because he had taken a turn for the worse. He was dying.

I didn’t make it back in time and I'm thinking that's the main problem I have with September. It's a regret I can't seem to shake. I was boarding the plane when I got paged and was told he had died. It hurt not being with him. It still hurts.

The days in Seattle after he died were busy making funeral arrangements, cleaning out his apartment, looking over his finances and taking crying breaks when I couldn’t stand it anymore.

Maybe it’s true that all of us have one thing we can’t get over in our lives. I lost a friend a couple weeks ago that I’m still upset about. Both my parents are gone. I lived through a divorce and the painful separation from my children – but losing Jered is the one big blow I can’t seem to get over and I knew he was going to show up on this blog today. I just knew it.

Let me be in my funk for awhile longer. I’ll be back to my normal self, whatever that is, when the calendar hits October.

- Larry Gross

(Photo: Jered and Larry growing up – 1956)

Comments

[Heather Annastasia]

Hang in there, Larry.

Hope you feel beter.

[Mark]

I also lost a brother to AIDS five years ago so I know what you're going through. Sorry for your loss.

[Marilyn]

Larry, for me the month is August. And this year (the first anniversary) it is extended until ??

There are some things we never get over. I've thought about this alot. It would seem dreadful to 'get over' such losses, don't you think?

*sigh*

[Matt]

I don't have a brother let alone a twin. I'm sorry man.

[jackula]

i've lost many, many a friend to this illness. you come to love someone, get attached, then aids takes them over. more slowly now but still surely.

i feel your pain.

[Lee Butler]

Sorry about your loss, you sounded down when I called you a few days ago. I lost my college study partner in a car accident back on August, 1993. I still miss him and think about him all of the time. Try to think about some of the good things in your life and take care.

Lee

[Becky]

Loss is so hard. When I look at aging parents, I start to feel sad because I know they won't be around forever.

I'm sorry, Larry

[Rita]

June 15 is my day. I visit my mom's gravesite on that date at exactly 9:15 a.m. with flowers.

I am really sorry for your loss and pain. It never leaves-it merely changes.

My thoughts are with you.
Rita

[David E. Gallaher]

What twins have relationshipwise is rare.
I know that from observation, not personal experience.
Peace.

[BrianCiesko]

As are mine, brother. My grandmother died last week and I just got back from her funeral in Chicago. I know it's not the same, she had a long life and Jered was taken from you all too soon. All the words in the blogworld can't erase or change your loss. But take comfort in the fact that you have people still around who care for you too.
What would your brother want you to do? Dwell or carry on? You're the one who can answer that question best. Stay strong, man.