Well, his birthday was hard, so hard. But then the holidays came. I don't know why, but it feels like things are supposed to stop. Christmas should not come anymore because he is not here. But still, yes still, I don't really believe it. Now we are in 2009, a year he was not in. I so did not want the year to change. I just feel sick lately. Sick of him not calling me, or stopping in, or something. I miss him and there is so much he needs to know. Why won't he just call. I have things I need to ask him. I miss you Brad, I miss you to the point that it pains my every cell in my body. I can't even feel your presence and it hurts. I have shut down inside. 2008 has taken more from me than all the years in my life combined. I have seen more death this year that ever. I should be glad to enter a new year, but I hate moving forward without you. I HATE IT. Time won't stop, life won't stop. I have guilt for living, but my kids are who I need to live for, not just be alive, but live. You know, I know you do, but I am sorry. I love you baby brother, I will always be proud to be your sister.
Crappy New Year
Comments
patrick
no events, no demarcation.
Fri, 01/02/2009 - 5:12pmI'm not feeling anything different because it is a new year. I still think of Brad often and how I would like to have the chance in front of me to connect with him like I knew we eventually would. I can't even look at this new year as a hump that will freefall us towards a tragic anniversary. It's all the same... numb with the occasional punch in the gut. Just another day. It's just taking the old calendar off the wall and putting up a new one, though. Stupid numbers that went from 12 to 1, from 2008 to 2009. I'm not making light and I do understand and I am sorry. I'm sorry for all who are feeling that the new year means Brad is being left behind no matter how much you hate it. To me, every time I think of him, he just left. It doesn't (and won't) hurt any less than it did on Dec. 31st at 11:59pm.
On a positive note, we have the joy of New Year's resolutions with which to honor his memory. I made my first batch of almond milk yesterday... one more triumph over big corporations making a buck at the expense of my health. Thanks, brother!
chad
I was just gonna post anything but here seems like a better spot
Tue, 02/03/2009 - 12:31amKris,
I know (or at least I feel like I know) what you are going through. He talked about you, just so you know. You knew what Brad allowed. That was the way it was with him. Always his terms. Just ask Kate. Hell ask me. Big frustrating yet rewarding muthafucker was your brother. I was thinking just yesterday about how I miss being exasperated with him. I actually miss the frustration of your brother.
I sat down tonight just to say whats up to a already long (not even a year) lost friend. Just to tell him whats been up. Then I saw your little letter and thought I should add to it. He loved you. I had heard about you and Patrick long before we ever met. It was not like he moved to St. Louis and left you all behind. You were the cool one, Patrick confused him and also I hate to report was the object of some jealousy. He wrestled with his protective nature of your mother. I guess what I am trying to say is in the years that we were friends hanging out and working side by side, studying tai chi, discussing the books you guys are now privvy to, travelling for hours just to see some band or terrorize Seattle with our less than P.C. midwestern fuck you-ness, reigning in shear drunken debauchery over Veil, CO for a week, or just spending an evening spinning records and bullshitting all of you came up. He loved the lot of you. In his own Brad way. He was a guy who loved the idea of family, just fell a litle short in the execution. An adoring father, Dr. Jeckyl Friday-Sunday (when he had Em), Mr. Hyde Monday-Thursday.
Yesterday I had a SuperBowl party and I thought about him all night. Not just cause his friends were all over and it felt like we were missing someone, but more for the friends that were there that he never really knew. Namely the kids. Phil's boys Micah and Bohdi were there as well as Jay's son Brendan having a blast freaking out my fish and playing Wii and I could not help but feel the absence of the biggest kid I ever met. He would have loved it and I knew it. It fucking hurt. All I could think about was how much those little guys don't know what they are missing. Brad not only loved kids he was awesome with them. Kids genuinely loved Brad. Kids don't see tattoos or drug habits, they don't seek out shortcomings, they just want someone to make them laugh and maybe teach them something. Those are two skills your brother had in droves and it kills me that not only my future children won't receive them but my friends kids are robbed of them as well. Uncle Brad would have been the favorite hands down no contest. As much as those kids like me I would be but a shadow to the colossus that was Brad T. Cassidy and I know it.
April 20 will be an evil day and I am mentally preparing myself for it. A day to honor and remember a great man that few knew to be as great as he was by his own doing. Though most saw only what he allowed, for those that saw what slipped through they are better for it. I am sure those are the memories that clan Cassidy has. I know those are the ones that are keeping me up tonight. Potential. The word on everybodies report card that never rung so hollow till now. Potential.It is what it is or what should have been.
Bless my friends slumber may he be well rested when we meet again so we can pick up where we left off. cause that is the only religion i have.
-chad
Kris (not verified)
Thank you
Wed, 02/04/2009 - 7:25amThank you. Thank you. He talked about me? He talked about us? That is huge. He had a hard time with the word love. He would tell me "I am sorry, I cannot say I love you guys. I just don't feel that. I can tell you I like you, but I cannot say I love you." I would tell him that is fine, I love you anyhow. It was fine. I understood how he was. And I always understood, that if it came out of his mouth, it was the truth. I could always count on the truth from Brad. At least I knew what came out of his mouth was honest. He, to me was Brad. Like I said, somebody who never gave me shame. I always thought he was cool. He was the one I wished I could be. What I want, how I want, my way. He was me, I just worried to much about what others thought. Brad let himself, be himself. I was jealous many times of him. Pat is the smart one. I was always jealous of him too. Sorry Pat, I know that life is not all peaches and cream, but the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, until you get older and wiser and open your(my) eyes. As we all got older and started realizing that we were all way more alike than we could even dream of, we all started to be able to get closer and closer. Marianne and Brad would have been able to talk about so much stuff. Pat and Brad were at the very beginning of what could have and would have been a whole brand new relationship of being brothers that I bet, would have been something we all would have envied.
Kids loved him, yes they did. In the presence of mine, he instantly was a kid. Truly and completely, a kid. The Pied Piper. They sensed that part of him, he held deep inside. Around kids something happened to him. He could just hit the floor, and be one. It was a transformation. Not a game, not an act, but a true transformation. My youngest daughter, who is shy to everyone at first, adored him. Just adored him. No shyness there. Not for Uncle Brad. She talks about him regularly. I make sure of that. When I say regularly, I mean every day or two. I will not let her young mind lose her Uncle Brad. She spent time playing with him a few days before, she has fresh memories. I have to keep them fresh. When she found out he was, well, gone, her exact first words were, “You mean, my playing friend is dead? He is my playing friend” That is what she called him. My playing friend.
You telling me/us what you did, thank you. I really really needed that. It is like not eating for weeks and finding a filet mignon and a baked potato That is how good it tastes, and it’s filling. I was starving. I get so frustrated looking at his pictures. Pictures are different now. I don’t know how to explain how they make me feel, but I’ll try. It is like, they will never change. He will always look like that because we will never have new pictures. Pictures of other people are different to look at. But looking at Brad’s, they are so permanent. Well, that didn’t work. I don’t know, I can’t really explain it, but it is just not the same as pictures of other people, that will take other pictures someday. No new facial expressions, no other poses, no new pictures. Just these. That’s it, no more. I can hear his voice whenever I try. That hee hee hee laugh, he would do. Classic. It doesn’t get better does it, it just keeps piling up. I need my grief, it’s all I got.. Thank you for being here.
Kris
patrick
well, you almost peaked my grief...
Fri, 02/06/2009 - 9:02pmI wanted to know. Careful what you wish for, eh? Although I am not at all happy that Brad was jealous of... whatever the hell he found to be jealous of, it is a relief to know that was part of what kept him away. I mean, it is different than him knowing I was an asshole and not bothering with me. No matter what I learn, I still have that last conversation to hold on to, and that was years worth of progress for our understanding of each other. I feel like ranting and raving and asking all kinds of questions, but I am not able to talk to Brad like you all have been doing here. Think about it... he had all those books to help him understand things, but he was confused by his brother and didn't try to read me.
Brad, if you can hear me...
Hey, asshole, I am a man who hates people and is often disappointed in the human race, yet somehow has a deep concern and desire for things to get better, and a strong belief that they can. I am a loner who is known to make friends and acquaintances uncomfortable with expressions of intimacy and warmth and appreciation. Sadly, whatever great and unique qualities women see in me when they say I am unlike anyone they have ever met must be inversely proportional to the ability to be around anyone for too long. Does that batch of contradictions clear anything up?
Hey, asshole, everything is relative, and I hurt on a daily basis just like you did. I battle with the “normal” things that for some reason are not in my nature. What I had that you did not have was offset by the pressure and responsibility that came with it. Work was my salvation (my drug). Work got me where I am, and I should be a helluva a lot better off at this age. If things continue as they are, you will have lived three times as much as me when I am finally gone. I envy you YOUR salvation. Your quality friends that you had longer. Your experiences. Do you know I think of singing in a thrash punk band and making a statement with my art EVERY DAY now? I scream messages to the world in my head to a bass, electric guitar, and drums. I feel the loss of all I will never do.
Hey, asshole... grass IS greener. You just need to realize that the fella on the other side of the fence is thinking the same thing.
Crap, if you can hear me, I don't want you to desire something you could have had. I don't want you to feel like I do. I wouldn't wish this on anyone. But, I want you to want to know me. At least enough to know you shouldn't have been jealous. Who am I trying to make proud of me? Why would you be jealous of the person who is trying to live up to all that you are?
Kris, you are still here... WTF? You got some s'plainin to do...