A Deeper Love
Photo by Abhishek Chadha
My Brother, Peter
My oldest brother, Peter, passed less than a month after he turned 21 and almost six months after I turned 19; thirty-two years ago, tomorrow. Peter was my best friend growing up. I was much more spunky and lively than he was. As I think back on our times together, it seems like he was there to be a voice of reason and a protector for me when I got a whacky idea in my head. I remember those times we spent together and the great talks we had.
Peter was different, in my perspective, he largely lived in his own world. I admire that he didn’t seem to care about the things that other people said about or thought about him. He was definitely worried about him and most hard on himself. He was so intelligent and so different from most others and kids would make fun of him right in front of him. It made me so angry. If he knew it was happening, he never let on that he did. He did like to be dared to do things. If he got an idea in his mind to try something, he would say, “Do you dare me?” Sometimes we would say yes and other times no. It didn’t really matter though because every time he would do it anyway.
As he got older, he seemed to be living in his own internal world and seemed to become more disconnected in a way that didn’t allow him to navigate this world very easily. Eventually, he ended up being taken to live in facility after facility to try and help him learn to navigate this world, or his world. The last time I saw him was when I was around 16 years old.
His Passing
When I learned of his passing, I was so shocked and I felt numb. I couldn’t believe it and was relieved for him all at the same time. Because of who he was, there were things that he longed to do and be that he just couldn’t living here in this life. He was tortured in so many ways, so the biggest part of me was relieved for him to be released from that. But, I just couldn’t believe that I would never see him again, it felt like it had already been forever since I saw him last. When I saw him in the casket, it didn’t look too much like him to me. I never liked to see anyone lying in a casket and this experience made me hate it even more.
I went home for his funeral and still hadn’t cried. I went to the viewing and walked in the procession behind his casket. As I sat there through the service, the tears still didn’t come. As a child, I was made fun of a lot because I cried a lot; I was very sensitive. When I was in middle school, I taught myself not to cry. I wanted to be strong. After that, the only time I cried was if I was very angry. Then, at Peter’s funeral when my sister began to play a melody of his favorite hymns, the flood gates opened and I sobbed and cried. The tears didn’t want to seem to stop.
During this time in my life, I was out on my own and had stopped practicing my lifelong religion. I was not living up to the standards I had been raised with. After Peter’s death, I began to feel an intense amount of shame and guilt because I didn’t want him to be ashamed of me. I thought about him a lot and wanted him to be proud of me.
Some Blessed Enlightenment
A few months before Erik’s passing, he began to talk to me more about his spiritual experiences. I always let him take the lead on talking about these things with me. He didn’t talk about it much, but when he did, there was a sacredness I felt about it. One day, he began to tell me that my brothers had some things they wanted him to tell me. The messages that came through were filled with details that I had never talked to Erik about. Erik knew about my life and choices I had made, but I never went into extensive detail about many things just like he didn’t with me.
One experience that Peter brought up was about one night I had been out with my friends. We had gone to watch friends of ours that were in a band play at a bar. Usually I didn’t drink, I was most always the designated driver. This night, I decided I wanted to drink, so my friend promised she would be the designated driver. I was sitting at the bar when a guy, Roger approached me and asked me if he could buy me a drink. I said, “If you want, but you aren’t going to get lucky.” I sometimes surprise myself with what comes out of my mouth. He just assured me that he just wanted to buy me a drink. He stayed pretty close to me throughout the night. I really allowed myself to have plenty to drink and get myself good and blitzed. Roger asked if he could get a ride with us and my friend said yes.
Later, I found out that he didn’t even drink and left his car at the bar to be sure I got home safe. I had never told Erik about the details of this experience and Peter said that he sent Roger to me that night to keep me safe. I can still remember how I felt when this was happening. Peter talked about other experiences in my life, even during my time with Erik, ways that he helped to keep me and us safe. This was just a confirmation of what I already felt in that Peter still was my protector.
One day when I was driving home, probably about eight years ago, this song played. I know that the song is speaking about a romantic love, but when it played this time, I could feel Peter so strongly wanting me to see myself the way others do and to love myself. I did really feel the strong desire to finally really love myself, I felt sort of desperate to love myself. Up until then, when I looked at myself in any way, all I could do was see and find all of the things that I needed to fix. After that, I began to have a different experience when I listened to love songs. Those experiences with Erik telling me the messages my brothers had for me cracked open this new reality that continues to help me understand and see things more clearly on my journey here in this world. My heart aches at times because I miss my loved ones that have passed so badly. But, I am so happy to be able to feel them with me and continue to receive support, protection and guidance from them too.
