An Essay I wrote regarding the loss of my brother, David Ulrich

Here is an essay I wrote for my creative writing class in 2006.

I read the bumper stickers, “Make April 15th just another day”. My initial reaction is one of immense sadness. A reminder of the pain of a loss too fresh to be numbed by time. I know the economical meaning behind the bumper stickers, but my mind keeps drifting back to the last April 15th. “It will never be just another day to me”, I think with sadness.

It was just a typical morning, yet one I will never forget. I’m amazed at how the smallest details are branded into my memory. It was one of those mornings where you are sluggish to begin your day. The warm shower was too relaxing to want to leave. I remember leaning against the shower ledge, allowing the hot water to rinse away any residual tension in my back. Somehow I managed to pull myself away from this simplistic, yet thoroughly pleasant start to my day.

The next few hours were so routine. I got ready for work and dressed my 9-year-old and 7-month-old sons for the day. I drove my older son to school and my youngest to day care. Little did I know about the tragedy about to unfold with my family in my hometown up north.

I arrived at work and got started on my tasks for the morning. I made my usual cup of coffee. Cream and two packets of sugar substitute. I threw my bottle of water in the freezer. I always enjoyed my bottle of half frozen water after my morning coffee. I sat back down at my desk and sent an email to a few of my colleagues. They were both into health and fitness and went on brisk walks at break time. I just enjoyed walking with them and having some nice laughs. They were so full of energy, just trying to keep up with them was an enjoyable feat. We agreed to meet at our usual time. 10:00 am. The ten minutes I spent walking, talking, and laughing were the last ten minutes of normalcy, as I knew it, for the rest of my life.

We were on our last lap heading back towards our desks when the receptionist, Debbie, stopped me. “You have a call. I think it’s your husband. Do you want me to transfer it?”, she said. Nothing sounded urgent in her voice, but something seemed out of place. Just that feeling you get when something seems wrong even when everything is in place. “Why is he calling me so early?” I thought. My husband worked very late hours and normally wouldn’t be awake for at least another hour or so. But even that didn’t alarm me. Something else was going on. I walked quickly up the stairs and met the transferred call at my desk.

I answered the phone and waited for my husbands voice to greet me with his usual “Hey Beautiful”. Instead, he wanted to know how I was doing. I replied that I was doing good, I just completed my walk with my friends. That’s when he said, “We’re going to Ohio.” That’s where I was born and raised. My entire family still resided there. I made a point to go back and visit at least once a year. This year we were planning on going at the end of May. My son would be out of school and my step mother would be graduating from medical school. The weather would be nice and mild. So my husband telling me we were going to Ohio didn’t seem too out of place.

“Yes we are. Next month.” I said to him to a half-jokingly tone. I was waiting for his response.

“No, we have to go now.” He said. That’s when I felt the initial shock, that sinking feeling deep inside that your world is about to change. In the few seconds that he paused, my mind played a million scenarios. What could possibly be wrong?!

“Your mother just called…” My mind raced. Ok, my mother called. She’s ok. My grandmother? She was the only grandparent I still had living. I’ve always feared the day something would happen to her. Please don’t tell me something happened… My dad? Maybe something happened to my dad. He was decently healthy, but you still fear the unexpected would occur to one of your very own parents. The people who gave you life that you take for granted will always be there for you. “Who? What?” all of this raced through my mind in the space of one second. Until I heard my husband say those words. “Your brother died last night”.



Shock.



Silence.



Disbelief.


At that moment the world did not exist to me. There was no world around me. My heart did not beat. There was no air in my lungs. I was not at work. My desk, the phone I was holding, nothing existed anymore. My entire body went numb.

As quickly as everything left me, all of it hit me like a ton of bricks. The power of the entire universe hit me. Painfully.

“No”

That was all I could say. That was all my mind, which previously raced with thoughts and ideas, could process.

“No”

I heard my husband on the other end of the phone, “I’m so sorry baby.” I could tell he had been crying. He met my brother on a few occasions on our visits up north and he really liked him. He was the little bratty brother I warned him about. But he was rather impressed by him. And he knew how much my brother meant to me. He was my spiritual twin, born years after me. The person I shared my childhood with. My best friend. The person torn away from me as we grew into separate people. The person who turned to gangs, drugs, and violence. The person I tried to save. The man who turned his life around and achieved his lifelong dream of being a firefighter. A paramedic. The wonderful father to his beautiful 5 year old daughter. My brother. Gone.

“No. I’m coming home” I said to him. That was all I could think of saying. I completely underestimated the degree of shock I was in. I didn’t realize that I couldn’t move on my own.

We said our goodbyes and hung up the phone. That’s when the immense flood of emotions came over me.

“No. No. No. No. No. No.” I knew I was thinking it, but I didn’t realize that I was saying it out loud. Not until my friend, who sat in the cubicle next to me came over.

“Is everything ok?” she asked me. At that moment I broke down into tears. She grabbed me and lead me into the restroom across the hall.

She held me as I broke down. A few more people made their way into the restroom. The whole time I lost myself in the immense sadness of losing my only brother. I didn’t know what happened so I couldn’t make sense of it. I couldn’t rationalize it. I couldn’t bring him back. There was nothing I could do. My thoughts turned to his daughter. My beloved neice, Illana. She was only 5 years old. This can’t happen to her! It’s not fair! My thoughts turned to his girlfriend of 8 years.

My brother. My baby brother. A few weeks shy of his 24th birthday. The fireman. The paramedic. I thought of his life, once plagued with violence and drugs, turned around to be well-liked and very respected. The one who shared my childhood with me. The only person in the world who understood my childhood, and me, the only one who understood his childhood. Gone. It was all gone.

That was the day, April 15th, the one I am reminded of. “Make April 15th just another day”. For the rest of my life. Maybe 60 more years, that day will never be just another day. It will forever be an anniversary. The day a very special man left my life. But perhaps each anniversary will become easier. And I will find peace. And maybe someday we’ll meet again.