Video cameras were big and a bid deal when Aaron was born in '87. Cathy and I had one. It was about the size used by the news crews. The control was on the side with a hand grip and the butt end rested on your shoulder. We have VHS of boys when they were young. There is one of Aaron running away with a suitcase which carried the words "Going to Grandmas" on the side. There's Aaron walking away from the house, looking back and shouting, "And turn that camera off!!"
As the boys grew up the cameras grew smaller. We have a box full of video we expected to watch for years with the boys and their girl friends and future families. Two and a half years now and I can not bring myself to see anything with Aaron walking and talking. The first time I saw a deceased relative on tape the experience was odd. The person was a grandparent. Hearing the voice was a good feeling. A grandparent passing is understandable and in the right order. Having their image and voice with us to relive memories was OK. That was just the way it was supposed to be.
The desire to see and hear Aaron does not include seeing and hearing him on a recording. I fear that image will confuse my memory. I already am off balance with recalling the last days of Aaron because the images of those days are few. Most images are from months, nearly a year, before he died. I also fear the moving pictures and sound will put me down and back. Missing a person does not seem to get easier as time goes on. I can function in the day but I miss my son more. There is much for me to share with him and much I want to hear him tell.
Patrick's friend Amanda sent this picture to me today. Aaron is playing a guitar and superimposed over Aaron is Patrick playing Aaron's guitar. Patrick was the best little brother Aaron could have. In spite of enormous reasons to turn his back, Patrick never quit pulling for Aaron.
It's ironic that the morning after Patrick was born, a four year old Aaron was up early expecting to find his new brother in his crib. I heard Aaron bopping into the baby room and then come busting into the bedroom shouting to me, "Where is my brother?!? I want my brother!!" Aaron didn't understand that Patrick wasn't going to be born one day and be playing Superman and Dark Wing Duck the next day. His patience with Patrick wore thin when little PT had to spend an extra week in an incubator to grow a lung. Good lord Aaron was not impressed with this brother.
Aaron had little use for a baby who couldn't be a sidekick. As he gained self mobility, Patrick earned some parts in Aaron's imaginary life. Patrick's turn to wish for the brother he always wanted came when Aaron started to grow away from his family. No matter how much Aaron struggled, Patrick loved him. Oh, Patrick's patience was tested. Often Patrick would get his hopes up and have them dashed by Aaron's stumbles. I don't believe PT gave up on Aaron at any time, but he did protect himself from dissapointment as best he could at 11 and 12. A kid can gain wisdom and compassion by being tested in the fires of chaos if he doesn't give in to the temptation of fighting dissapointment with resentment.
We too had big visions for Aaron and Patrick. Like a little boy, I had expectations that didn't include the reality of life's possible detours. Things can go wrong but the real disasters happen to other people.
Every day I feel that shocking sensation in my heart and head telling me Aaron is gone. I grit my teeth and groan. I suppose everyday Patrick would like to shout the words little Aaron said in January 1991, "Where's my brother?!?! I want my brother!"
Aaron is proud of Patrick. Patrick carries what he knows was best about Aaron as a light in his soul. He shares that spark with the world in the way he lives his life. Patrick was Aaron's teacher and Aaron was and still is Patrick's mentor.
Posts
