One day I talk about him as if I am going to hang out with him within the hour.
The next day I talk about him as if he has been gone for a very long time.
My reality is different from day to day. Bare with me.
Sixteen.
At sixteen he died from Congenital Heart Failure, caused by a disease called Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy.
At sixteen he never drove.
At sixteen he had dreams and passions which few knew of.
His love was stronger and deeper than anything I have ever known.
He.
He was my brother.
It's a struggle, you see. One day, it is simple. One day, it is too much to bare.
I always knew it would be difficult; not quite like this.
People talk about how it was meant to be.
People talk about how he was 'needed' more in Heaven.
My response:
He is not needed more in heaven. God did not need another angel.
I don't find it selfish that I still wish he was still here.
I volunteered for a Hospice Agency, and it was a wonderful experience.
A total of four years.
I saw the happiness, sadness, and anger many family members wore on their faces.
I watched tears run down so many cheeks.
I witnessed the truest of smiles.
I heard depth from lips.
Hospice, on the other side.
On the side of your own loved one is not the same.
Coming to the realization that the person you love more than life itself is dying; is not fun.
It is not easy.
It is not worth the pain.
Trying to figure out if it is okay to laugh without him has been hard.
Trying to figure out if I shouldn't cry because it would 'make him sad' has been hard.
Staying up late at night wishing you would have done more, said more, been more or loved him more has been hard.
Thinking you're out of the grieving process, when it hits you that you are back at the very beginning.
Not wanting to talk about him.
Wanting to talk about him, but not feeling right about it.
I simply miss him. Everything about him. Even the parts that are very sad about him.
John Timothy (Jt) Nimmo.
Him.
Lil' Broski.
Brother.
Friend.
Favorite Hero.
Favorite Person.
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