Long Time No Post

This weekend we had a fantastic abundance of friends & family around. We held Warren's memorial yesterday. There were 11 speakers in all. My old coworkers were surprised that I didn't speak. I just couldn't think of anything to say. I had nothing to add.

Probably due to my selfish grieving. I mourn my loss. I mourn that I can't have him with me through the rest of my life. One family friend shared the story of seeing Warren at age 3 or so, approaching me, the baby. It was clear he was going to hit me for some reason. The family friend suggested to Warren that if he hits me, I'd scream & bite him back then our mom would come in and send us both to our rooms. I think that was Warren's first introduction to logic.

My relationship with him was so primal and selfish. He was there to harass. He was there to mock. Even with him being dead, I still tell mom how much better I am than he. It is a knee jerk reflex - I don't know how to exist without it. We were rivals. As a child I did try to minimize that - I did not try his areas of success such as science, band or computers. He was no good at sports, so I was off the hook there.

The grief has mixed completely with the confusion of his death. My logical, sane, sensible, thoughtful brother lost his mind. He spent his final weekend in a mental hospital. Did something happened in his brain? As far as we can tell his brain looked normal, yet I realize how crude our scientific understand of gray matter is. Maybe his PyMOL will illuminate the answers eventually. There is so much science that we still have to explore. His legacy, PyMOL will help us find the answers.

I know he is dead. I touched his head, patted his cold hands before they cremated him. I have a voicemail he left me. I can listen to his voice anytime I wish. But I don't need that. Having had him as my big brother, I feel like I hear his advice any time I please.

But there are things he hasn't yet weighed in on. I haven't heard his verdict on becoming an uncle. I can hear him telling me that crying over him won't help - it's just not logical. Yet I don't know what he thinks about Marc & my plans for starting our own family.

I don't feel like he's dead. I keep thinking he's right there. He's a phone call away. The memorial did force me to confront his death for 1.5 hours. We spoke about him, remembered him and looked at photos of him. Cried over him. Despite all that, I don't feel like he's dead. It is impossible. He wasn't supposed to die until we were in our 90's.

I hear it will sink in eventually.