June 26, 1980
June 26, 2008
I’ve been thinking about this posting for weeks now. I’m not quite sure how to start or exactly what I want to write. I just know I have to write today.
Today is Thursday, June 26, 2008, and I can tell you what I had for lunch on this day 28 years ago.
In the summer of 1980 I was 12, and I was enjoying that period of time between elementary school and Junior High. My bike was my best friend, and in the few short weeks since school had been out, I was riding all over town. I had set a goal for myself that summer: I wanted to read every single Hardy Boys book that our local library had. It seemed like I was riding to the library almost every single day to get a new book. I was pouring through that series! Reading and riding were my pastime that summer mostly because there really wasn’t anything else to do.
It was shortly after 1 o’clock in the afternoon on Thursday, June 26, 1980, and my mom and I had just finished our lunch (liver sausage) when the phone rang. My brother Steve had been in an accident at work. Before I knew it, Steve’s boss was at our house in his green Dodge van to pick my mother up, and I was left home alone to wonder and worry. I sat looking out our window at the cars going by on the highway. Soon there was an ambulance, and then I saw our pastor and my mom in the church van go by. She looked worried like I had never seen her before. That’s when the seriousness of the day hit me. My thoughts immediately went to the previous night: It was bedtime, and I was being sent upstairs for the night. Steve and I had been playing a hand-held electronic game together earlier that evening. It was pretty unusual for my 17 year old brother to spend an evening with me like that. As I headed up the stairs for bed, I distinctly remember turning to look for Steve to say goodnight. To this day, I do not know what caused me to do something so out of character like that. Steve was in the bathroom, so I just went to bed. I wish I had that moment back even to this day.
Since I was left home alone, the pastor’s wife was sent to look after me. She kept me busy for the afternoon as she took care of the errands on her schedule. In the early evening I was left with her son at the local park to watch his baseball game. Half way through the game, she came back to get me. My parents were home from the hospital, and they wanted to see me.
The mood was very somber when I got home. My parents, brother, the pastor, and his wife were all in the living room. I knew what was coming before it was said. I sat next to my father on the couch. He put his arm around me and told me that Steve was in Heaven now.
My life changed that day is so many ways. Reading and riding had no joy in them the rest of the summer. In fact since that day, I’ve never read another Hardy Boy’s book.
Twenty-eight years later the hole that was created that day in our family and in each of our hearts remain. Grief is not something you ever get over. Your loss is just incorporated into the fabric of your life. As I write this, the emotions of that day are closer than usual, but they are never more than just an arms length away.
I still miss my big brother.
