My story

This is the first time I have written on our blog, sorry about that. I don't know if many of you know, but I had a little brother die when I was very young. Now that I have a son of my own I have been thinking a lot about it. I wrote this story about the day that he died, I hope you enjoy it.

Seagulls
I remember the day well. I was 6 years old and it was Monday, April 11th 1988. This day had the potential to be a really good day, but it wasn’t. The sun was shining, but I wasn’t playing. Daniel, my older brother, and I had to help my father load up the trailer to go to the dump. What a crappy day, I was supposed to be playing. “This isn’t any fun” I told my dad, “we just got out of school, so when can we play?”
“This is something that we need to get done” my father said. “We haven’t been able to get rid of junk all winter and it’s time to do some spring cleaning. Besides, you’re finally big enough to come along. It will be nice to have someone to help your brother and I at the dump.”
Every time we went out front to drop off some more garbage in the trailer I could see Jarom, my little 4 year old brother. Jarom had just figured out how to ride his bike without the training wheels so it was obviously a big deal. Jarom, the perfect little boy, always happy and he would never tell a lie. No matter how much you begged him to. The best things in the world to him were Teddy Ruxbin, eating graham crackers and watching Sesame Street. He was honestly the cutest little kid on the block and he never took advantage of it. He was the kind of little brother that you just hate. I couldn’t wait for him to turn 5 in a month, as if being a year older would make him less cute and give him more responsibility.
“Everybody load up” my father announced. I was surprised when my mother and Jarom came out. Didn’t they know they weren’t allowed to come? I didn’t have to say anything, my father could see it on my face. “We’re going to make this a family trip today” he said. This day just kept getting worse and worse.
Going to the dump was usually the type of thing the men in the family did, you know ages 6 and above, no moms aloud. Definitely not 4 year old little brothers who obviously hadn’t reached manhood yet, but this day was an exception. My mother hadn’t been able to spend a lot of time with my father this week, so she decided to come along and bring Jarom too.
What is this? He didn’t have to help load up the trailer but he still got to go to the dump? In what world is this fair? I was more than a little bit upset, but I got over it quickly. We were going to the dump after all, and that’s enough to make any child happy. Even though the dump smelled like a week old tuna fish sandwich stuffed into an old hiking boot, it was still one of the coolest places to go.
When we reach the dump justice is finally on my side. Jarom isn’t old enough to get out and help so he has to wait in the car. Just my dad, my mom, my older brother and me unloading the trailer. My older brother and I spent more time looking for “cool treasure” than actually helping unload the garbage. This was the best part of going to the dump. The possibilities of what you could find were endless. Everything was a potential treasure, but for some reason mom and dad didn’t want any of it. Who wouldn’t want half of a bicycle, and old toaster and a TV that looked like it could work?
We were just about done unloading everything and I had just stumbled upon some really good treasure when I heard my father yell and my mother scream. My older brother and I were thrown in the back of the vehicle and we were driving very, very fast. My dad was yelling for people to get out of the way and my mother was just crying. I was very confused, I asked my older brother what was going on and he didn’t have a clue.
Then I saw him. My little brother was in my mother’s lap and he wasn’t moving. “What happened?” I asked, but nobody answered. “Stop running red lights! You’re going to hit someone!” I told my dad, but he just told me to shut up and put my seat belt on.
When we reach the hospital my parents told Daniel and I to wait in the car and they would be right back. We waited for what seemed like hours, finally my father came out. “Your brother got ran over at the dump. The doctors are working on him now. Your aunt LeAnne will be here soon to pick you up.”
The world went silent. It was as if God had pressed the mute button on everything. That was why Jarom wasn’t moving and my parents were acting crazy. I felt numb all over, the way you feel after you set off a bunch of firecrackers at your feet. Then the tears came, it was the type of crying that shakes your whole body and you almost pass out because you can’t breathe. I was crying so hard, all I could say was “I want my little brother back”. My older brother tried to comfort me, he told me that jarom would be alright, but I didn’t believe him. All I can do is cry harder and harder, I don’t even remember getting picked up by my Aunt LeAnne.
The next thing I know I’m at my Aunt LeAnne’s apartment. She fed us some tomato soup and grilled cheese, but I wasn’t hungry at all. I hate my Aunt LeAnne’s place. She lives in a shitty basement apartment and there are no good toys to play with. It’s not her fault she doesn’t have any good toys, her baby is way too young to have anything cool to play with. It’s dark and cold inside, just like every basement in the world. I don’t want to be dark and cold so I go outside. As I go outside the sun hits me, it seems way too warm for April. The sun is way too bright for my mood, there aren’t even any trees for me to play in or sit under. I choose to sit in the carport next to the big oil stain, this fits my mood perfect. The oil stain is dark in the middle and the oil thins out towards the edges and it becomes lighter. Kind of like the way I feel, I ache from the inside out. My Aunt tries to comfort me, but I ignore her. I don’t want any human contact right now. I just want my brother back. I want to see him ride up to the carport on his bike and tell me that it was all just a joke, now we can eat graham crackers and watch Sesame Street together. No such luck, just me and the oil stain. I hate being alone with my pain and my thoughts.
The hours drug on, then I heard the phone ring. This has to be my parents, they must be calling to tell me that Jarom is fine and we can all go home now. They will be here in 10 min and everything will be fine. “We need to go to the hospital” my aunt LeAnne says. “Your parents need to tell you something.” This “something”, I think to myself, can’t be anything good.
I hate hospitals, they are way too bright and sterile smelling. Nothing about a hospital is soft and I want to feel soft now. My parents meet us in the lobby. My grandparents and the rest of my family are there. All of them are crying. My brother and I were the last to find out that our little brother is dead. It doesn’t seem fair. We should have been the first to know since we were there when it all happened. Nothing seems fair today.
When we went to see his body I couldn’t understand why he was dead, he looked fine, he looked like he was taking a nap. Breathe I kept thinking, just begin to breathe and we will be a family again. “He looks fine” I said. “How did he die from a little bruise on the head” I asked?
“Internal injuries” my father said. “When the truck ran him over all of his insides were damaged”. As if that made sense to me. I’m mad at the doctors for not trying hard enough, fixing your insides shouldn’t be that hard to do. They’re doctors. That’s what they have to do.
Immediately I feel horrible about everything I ever did to Jarom. Why do I hate all the things that make him so perfect? I wish I could just say sorry to him one last time, just tell him that I love him one more time. I can’t, he’s gone now.
We found out that Jarom got out of the car to chase some seagulls and someone backed over him. This was the only time his curiosity got him in trouble. We all said goodbye to everyone that gathered at the hospital for support then we got in the car and drove home.
About a week after the accident the man who backed over my brother saw the story on the news. He turned himself into the police and the police contacted my parents. They met with the man and talked with him for a while. They told the police that they didn’t want to press charges. They let the man know that they have forgiven him. That was one of the hardest things my parents have ever done. Slowly we all began putting our lives back together as best we could.
In the months to follow I’m sure my parents blamed each other and themselves for what happened. They never let my older brother and I see them fight, they couldn’t put us through that. Everyone was on the verge of tears for the first couple of weeks after the accident, except for me. I remember telling my mother that I was done being sad and I didn’t want to cry anymore, so I didn’t. I tried to block out everything that happened that day, but when I started dealing with my sadness later on in life I could remember everything.
I have learned that everything happens for a reason, it’s up to us to figure out what that reason is. I can honestly say that April 11th 1987 was the worst day of my life. Did I learn a lot about sadness at age 6? Yes, I did. Did I learn how to deal with that pain and sadness and become a better person? I hope so. Am I a better person because of it? I pray that I am.
Here I am 27 years old and I have a little boy of my own. He is only 13 months old but I don’t plan on ever taking him to the dump, and if I do he is definitely staying in the car. I don’t care if I have to put him on a leash. I know that I am an overprotective father and my wife gets mad at me sometimes… most of the time. I just ask her to be patient with me. I’m still learning how to be a father. I know that my son will eventually get hurt, all little boys do. I just have to relax and remind myself that I can’t prevent every bad thing from happening to him. He is so curious and he always finds a way to get into the middle of anything you are doing. If my son is anything like his father he will find all sorts of trouble to get into and have lots of fun doing it. I just won’t let him chase any of those damn seagulls.