I usually don't do this type of post and don't let the picture offend you, let me explain. This drawing hangs in my studio. It's very special to me because it's a portrait of me drawn by my brother. He was three years older so when I was a lowly Freshman in High School he was a Senior. He made sure I didn't get picked on much. It was probably my favorite year of school and it's because my brother, my friend and hero was there. We had lots of inside jokes which included him calling me Bitch and me calling him F#%^head. One night while I was doing homework he cranked out this little gem. I love the one huge foot and the little hand with the middle finger up. I was never that skinny though. I don't think anyone would think of him as an artist, but this is a Mona Lisa to me.
This is the 21st Anniversary of his death. The other day I realized that this meant I have lived more years without him then I had with him. This realization caught me off guard and stirred up lots of emotions. I thought back to the gray painful days when it first happened and how for years February was so difficult to get through. Then I remembered the March that I realized I made it through February and it wasn't as painful. I was healing. This was a few years after I met the man I married. It's as if a piece of a puzzle was missing and he gave it back to me. Not quite the same shape, but it still fit. I've always had a happy life, but there was just that little hole in my heart and it got patched.
I still have a pin hole that could never be filled by anyone but my big brother, but my life is once again filled with friendships, companionship, laughter, love and new inside jokes. I'm grateful I had a big brother and especially one that I was friends with and so close to. I really don't think there has been a single day in 21 years that I have not thought about him a little bit. He is always in my heart and because of this portrait, always in my studio.
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