As time goes by

I'm sorry to say that  time has erased some of the details of that day.

I don't remember where I went. I don't remember what I did. I don't remember any of the mundane details of the last day I had a brother.

 I remember the phone ringing in the middle of the night. My mother's stricken voice on the other end of the phone, telling me to let her talk to my husband. I didn't understand why, but I knew it wasn't good.

I remember watching him walk around the room with the phone in one hand, his head in his other. Seeing his face, watching it change. And then him sitting back on the bed and tell me, try to tell me.

"It's Rhett... He was on his way to Grand Isle for the Tarpon Rodeo. ..He was in an accident. ... He was ..."

How I wish now that I had stopped him right there. Had said, "Wait a minute.

Give me a minute.

Give me just one more minute ...

Of a life with a brother."

"Killed."

How I wish you had said, "Wait a minute. Give me a minute. To buckle my seatbelt."

It might have made a difference.

Has it really been 10 years?

So much time has passed.

I had a six month old baby girl that day, the brand new child we had waited for so long, that you saw only a handful of times. Now she's almost as tall as I am. And her only memories of you are photographs and a 15-minute video of you trying to wake her up when she was a week old.

You had two little girls that day. Now you have two grown women. One is a wife and a mother of two. The other is about to graduate high school.

You had a handsome young stepson that day. He is now a father of two little boys. He and they have your last name.

You have two new nieces and another baby on the way. Three grand nieces. Four grand children. A still-grieving wife, and mother.

You've missed weddings and funerals. Christmas mornings. Easter Sundays. Graduations. Band concerts. Football games. Backyard barbeques. Birthdays. Luaus. Family squabbles. Hurricanes. Baseball games. Seafood boils.

And the Saints winning the Super Bowl.

Things you should have seen.Things I'm glad you didn't.


I remember my life before. With a brother who played with me. Put on plays with me. Washed the dishes with me. Opened my Christmas presents with me. Kidnapped my dolls and held them for ransom. Made me be Chopsley.

A brother who teased. Who convinced me that root beer really was made from tree roots. That the stuff the dentist uses to numb your gums was poison. That oysters turn to rocks in your stomach if you drink whiskey. That the boogie man was in our yard.

Who drank vinegar and pickle juice and Tabasco. Straight up. And Budweiser (none of that light crap, either).

A brother who bought me my first drink(s) and tried not to laugh when I threw up.

Who beat up the wrong Cruze brother for throwing a water balloon at me.

Who got really pissed off when one of his friends asked me out.

Who gave me away at my wedding.

Who has become, in our minds and hearts, a dragonfly.


I remember what it was like to have a brother. And I miss it.

To read more about my brother, Rhett, 
Please click: Dragonflies
                    Happy Birthday, Rhett 
                    Common Ground



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