13th on the 13th

Today shouldn't be any different than any other day but it is.  It is The Day.  As in "The Day Life Changed Forever."  Not in an awesome way like the day you have your first child or a bittersweet way like retiring from your career.  No, nothing positive or profound or upbeat to say about today.  Today is the 13th anniversary of my brother's murder.  Missing him shouldn't feel any different today than any other day -- he is just as gone the other 364 days of the year as he is today -- but it always does.  My memory becomes sharper today.  I can remember what I was wearing (the same thing I had on the day my Dad died.  I threw it out that night), the sound of his seatbelt clicking when I dropped him off for the last time, the way the light in my room looked when the phone rang to tell me that life would never be the same.  I wish I could forget.  It does me no good to look at the clock and think, "At this time that day, I was still at work..." but I can't seem to stop.  I'll be marking time for the next few days, remembering big and small moments from leaving him in the hospital through leaving him at the cemetery, until I can reset myself for another year.

We're meeting my Mom at her house today.  The kids and I are going with her to put pumpkins on "Uncle Jonathan's statue" at the cemetery.  It's our yearly tradition and they love it.  To them, it's a wide open space for running around madly and they have no idea that it's a sad place.  When they are there, it almost isn't.  I love to hear their laughter echo over the sorrow that clings to that place like snow on tree branches.  It reminds me that my life didn't really stop that day although it felt like it should.  Afterwards, we're going to see the Real Pirates exhibit at The Franklin Institute.  It was Mom's idea and I'm glad she wanted to do something for the living today.  She and I will just be marking time, looking forward to sleep tonight, but it will be good for both of us to get out and lose ourselves in the kids' happiness.

I took that picture of Jon on his last birthday, less than 3 weeks before he died.  To my knowledge, it is the last picture that was ever taken of him.  It's the picture that started my frantic need to chronicle every moment with my camera.  Although it breaks my heart to look at his smile for too long, it really is the perfect picture, summing him up in inadequate pixels.  I'm so glad that I took a moment to capture his smile in this picture, not knowing it would have to last me for the rest of my life.