Support and Silence

There was an outpouring of love after we lost my brother. It came in from every direction. I don't know what we would have done without those who were so wonderful at surrounding us with love and support and prayer.

There's no such thing as bad love. I know everyone who wished us well and tried to comfort us did it with nothing but the best intentions in their hearts. 

But the delivery on some was more hurtful than anything. 

Telling me that what happened to Robby makes you thankful for your brother.

The day my brother left us there was a flood of Facebook posts and texts. All were great. A few were less than considerate. One friend in particular chose to tag me in a status in which she tagged not one, but all THREE of her brothers. In this status she said that she couldn't stand the thought of losing any of them and was so grateful that they were all strong and alive.

Thanks?

We all do it. We all emit a silent sigh of relief whenever we see something tragic. Thank God it wasn't me, we think. We all feel especially grateful for what we have when we hear of a situation that is far worse than our own. Our parents tell us when we don't like what they made for dinner that "we could be starving like the children in Africa." There is always someone who has it worse than you do, but you don't have to tell that person that you're doing better than they are. They are well aware of that. 

Would you tell a dying person that what they are going through makes you so grateful for your working organs? Would you approach someone in a wheelchair and tell them that you are especially grateful for you legs after seeing them? Why? Because we know that in no way will that make them feel better about anything. 

So why did it feel okay to tell me that me my loss makes you feel so blessed that it wasn't you and your family? That even though you feel bad that I lost my brother you feel happy because you have your three brothers? I was so incredibly confused as to why she thought that might make me feel better. The saddest part was that she wasn't alone. Many people publicly made these announcements to their loved ones over Facebook for the entire day, often referencing my family and our situation as their reason for their recent realization of how "short life can be." I know they were just trying to show love to their families, but all I read was "Better the Canos than us." 

They were hoping to comfort us, but it was more like salt in the wound. 

Just the other day a woman sent my dad a message after he posted a picture of my brother. It helps him to share his love for Robby with others. The woman said that as she read my dad's posts she couldn't help but go hug her two sons and feel so thankful for them. I know she didn't mean any harm, but she didn't pause to think what it would feel like to be reminded of how unfair his situation is. That he lost his only son, and that she can still hug her two.

I know that people don't mean any harm, but there are sentiments that should be shared and then there are others that it's okay to have privately (difficult to do in a society that allows us to share all of our most intimate thoughts openly. I'm as guilty as the next.)

If you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all.

I always appreciate anyone who shares a memory of Robby or who tells us they pray for us. I greatly appreciate those who just read the things we write about him and let us know they read them.

Aside from the support, the kindest and most comforting responses were the ones of silence. 

After Robby left I had to go back to Manhattan. I was a waitress and had a work family who was so understanding with time off. My first night back wasn't the smoothest. 

A tall teenage boy with dark hair came in. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Robby. I think someone could hit me with their car and I wouldn't have the wind knocked out of me nearly as bad as I did in that moment. I couldn't take it. I went to the back room and completely broke down. 

A coworker of mine named Laura came back and just silently hugged me. She held me and let me cry myself out. She didn't try to offer any philosophical explanation about death. It was the most comforting thing in the world just to cry with someone who was just simply there.

Since then I've had so many wonderful encounters. People who are uplifting, people who have been through a similar experience, and people who are simply amazing at listening have all blessed me with their presence and understanding. I don't mean for this post to discourage anyone from reaching out to their friends, but I do wish to encourage everyone to be mindful of how their words might make others feel. Even the best intentions can hurt someone if you aren't careful, so if you aren't sure what to say please know that a listening ear and a prayer are never unwelcome. 

 

Half Full or Half Empty?

Everyone has heard it before: You can choose to either look at the glass half empty, or you can choose to look at the glass half full.

My heart is incredibly full today. After a little less than a month of excited anticipation our wedding pictures came in! My amazing running partner/best photographer-in-the-world delivered our album today. We had an amazing time looking through all the posed pictures and the more natural (albeit slightly less attractive photos) of us rhythmically dominating the reception.

 

 



My glass is certainly full. My parents threw us a beautiful wedding. So many friends and family came to celebrate with us and the night went as close to planned as possible. I had a wonderful night.

But someone was missing. My glass is half empty.

Robby should have been in each of these pictures. He should have been on the groom's side in a handsome gray tuxedo. He might have been shown (after having been dragged) on the dance floor doing the Cupid Shuffle with us. But he wasn't.

I couldn't bring myself on this day to have a picture of him around, a choice I can only hope he understands and can forgive. It would have been too hard to see his face smiling at me through a photo rather than smiling at me at the end of the aisle. Second in line only to the best man.

I have a husband who loves me and makes me the happiest woman in the world.
I also have a brother who isn't physically home and this thought makes me feel like the loneliest person in the entire world.

I have two loving parents who support me and do everything in their power to ensure my success and happiness.
I also have two loving parents who often cry and half wish they were dead.

I have everything to be thankful for, yet so much to feel very sad about. It's hard in moments of celebration when I feel so happy and so full only to feel an increasingly familiar emptiness. It feels like a hole in my stomach and a twitch in my chest. I'm celebrating, and he is missing. It's a mixture of guilt and longing. How is it that I can feel so happy when my brother is missing? How should I react? Should I cry? Be alone? Sometimes I don't know how to express what I feel. So I ignore it. I save it for a moment when I can be alone; a moment to cry into the void of my empty glass.

A concept that I think many people misunderstand or fail to acknowledge is that it is possible to feel very sad and very lonely every single moment of every single day and also be incredibly happy for every single one of those moments. I don't believe that human emotion can be narrowed down to simply half-full or half-empty. The glass is always both.

Today I am so happy. I have been able to relive every moment of my beautiful wedding.
Today I am so sad. I have relived every moment of my beautiful wedding and cannot find my brother anywhere other than in my tattoo. (Written by him in a Valentine's Day card in 2013, it reads: Love you nat -Robby)

Angel in Training

As an older sibling you are protective of your younger counterpart and you also get to enjoy the privilege of being the dominant sibling. However there comes a time when the dynamic starts to shift. Robby's time came quickly. Being a woman who stands no more than five feet in height, my victories over Robby were soon due more to his chivalry than my physical strength and even less due to the fact that I was "in charge because I'm older."

The other shift I was able to enjoy a lot more; Robby had become very protective of me. It was really sweet and it was a perfect example of his love. I'm lucky enough to know that someone who loves me so much is the one in charge now. 

The Angel Before Robby

August 2013

I'm prone to making poor choices. One of my bigger mistakes was going out with girlfriends on a summer night. We went out for drinks and dancing. We had a really nice time. Afterwards I decided to walk the three blocks to my car alone. It was a nice warm night and the neighborhood was quiet. I didn't find out until later that two girls had been attacked in that same area only a week prior. 

I was walking alone when I crossed paths with a young man wearing no shirt and a backpack. He was walking in the opposite direction. I called Brian. The man gave me chills. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that he had turned around and was walking nearly parallel to me. I could feel him watching me, but I shook off the feeling and told myself I was being paranoid.

This continued for a block until it became obvious that he was tailing me. I remembered reading an article that said to make yourself seem like more trouble than you're worth. I yelled at him to stop following me. He told me he wasn't and stepped into a driveway and said it was his destination. I turned onto a new block. My car was parked in a back alley a little over a block away. 

I broke into a run. Constantly looking over my shoulder. I saw a figure cross the street a block away making lateral movements with me. I knew it was him. Brian was already speeding to come and get me, I just needed to run out the clock. I made it to the middle of an alley when I turned around and saw him there at the end coming towards me. I barely had enough breath to scream, much less continue running in my dress. There wasn't a soul to be seen in this alley or on the nearby streets. It was late and everyone was out at the bar district anyways. I was frozen. 

As if out if nowhere two figures appeared. One ran towards the man and chased him away. The other came towards me. I knew not to be scared. He was a bearded man with brown curly hair. He had a slight figure and brown eyes, he hugged me and told me that his friend was chasing my attacker away. He walked me out to the street and less than a few seconds later Brian came speeding up and I was safe. 

We notified the police. It wasn't until the next day that Brian brought up the subject of angels. These two men had appeared out of nowhere in my moment of need and I believe that they were a pair of angels. 

That next morning I received this message from Robby: 

I saved it the moment I read it. It means so much to me on so many levels. At the time it was so comforting and thoughtful. To be told he loved me, to know that he had felt concerned. Now it serves as proof to me that he's always looking out for me. It's nice to know that I've met at least one angel. 

"Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it." 

Hebrews 13:2 NIV

Pilot

It's been almost a year since I last saw Robby on this earth. It's hard to breathe thinking about it and it's been weighing heavy on my heart to share with others my experiences. The good and the bad. It's my hope to provide a window into not only the grief that is a constant presence in my life, but to also share the joys that Robby brought to me while he was mine and the joy that God still gives me through other avenues.

I think it's so important to share your burden with others. I think it's even more important to share your joys. I'd love for this blog to be a source of comfort and inspiration for others regardless of their situation. My only hope is that those who read this will appreciate my "extra-ordinary" life and the lessons that I am learning along the way

Our Beginning

I was made to be a Big Sister. I'm naturally loud and bossy. Robby was patient and quiet. To say that he was my best friend would be a stretch. He was my brother. My annoying and wonderful little brother. As a Big Sister you find that you are a combination playmate, confidant, and protector.

But before you come to represent all of those things you first you get to experience the wonders of The Baby. Robby was and still is the most beautiful baby I've ever seen in my entire life, and I say that without bias. He really just was that beautiful of a baby. He had a beautiful tuft of light brown hair on his head and the most amazing caramel colored eyes. They were huge and showed every emotion he ever had. My favorite thing about him though was how soft he was. His was silky in the way that only a baby's skin can be. I would watch him sleep the whole time touching his little toes and fingers, but my favorite was his smooth fat little knees. They were so different from mine, already scarred from five years of running and, consequently, falling. It was one of the first times I remember being jealous of Robby, of his fat little knees.

A favorite story of my family's used to be about how once I, jealous of all the attention the new baby was getting, suggested to my parents that we "take him back to the hospital." Just return him. It used to get a lot of laughs. We don’t' tell that story anymore. All it brings is an overwhelming feeling of grief, guilt, and mortification. I had no idea, never once did it cross my mind, that I would one day have to take him back to the hospital. I never thought that one day I would take him back to the hospital and leave without him.

September 2013

It was the worst week. I made it home right before we airlifted him to Children's Hospital in Dallas. I caught him less than an hour before he was put into a coma that I would never see him come out of again. I hate thinking about it, but it often surfaces in my memories. During our week at Children's I found myself again touching his toes and fingers while he slept; a gruesome parallel to the beginning of our life together. This time his feet were gigantic and his hands had finally caught up to his height (nearly six feet tall and still growing). His knees were no longer smooth and soft. They were rough and surrounded by new teenage muscle. The last time that I saw him alive and well I had told him that his baby hands (something I used to give him a hard time about) had finally caught up to him. He smiled so proudly. Compliments from me weren't a frequent occurrence. That's one of my biggest regrets now.

We didn't find out until much later what had taken him from us. It was HLH, a rare and horrific disease, but it hardly mattered to me after the fact. I couldn't find the energy to care about anything. I dropped out of school. Stopped talking to most people. I couldn't relate to any of them. Who else had lost their little brother the way I had? There were people who tried to comfort me with stories of lost grandparents. They only made everything feel worse. How was I to relate to the grief of the most natural kind loss in the world? Grandparents live at least three times the amount of life that my brother had. Nights became a time to relive every hour in that hospital. My husband, Brian, falls asleep practically on command. He was my rock in his waking hours, but the hours I spent alone became unbearable. Pictures of Robby had to be tucked away. To look at his sweet face was to send a stab of pain so forceful that I felt I might fall. I began to wish I was dead too. It wasn’t fair to be the surviving child, the less deserving child and still living.

I don’t know where the time has gone. I don’t know how it’s possible that I’m sitting on the doorstep of the anniversary of the most awful time. I hate that the world has moved on, but I so greatly appreciate the outpour of love that has surrounded us.

Somehow life has managed to be okay since then. I’ve had a lot of really great moments. Brian and I moved to Texas. We finally had our “wedding”. We shared some really great moments with our family and friends. I missed Robby the entire time. It wasn’t complete without him, but it was still a blessing. I’m enrolled back in school and looking forward to finishing. I’m looking forward to starting my own family. It doesn’t feel right that my children will only know their Uncle Robby through pictures and stories. He would have been the most wonderful uncle in the world. But I’m blessed to be living my life right now with Robby. He’s still my brother and now he’s my angel too.