On December 6th 2010, at 8:06am, we lost my brother Jacob. With a history of heart complications, we suspect he died of a heart attack.
I wanted this post to be an eloquent eulogy to Jacob, but find that stating the facts has left me drained and numb. Jacob died on Monday. Jacob is gone physically from our lives. He’s not coming back from the pizza shop to give me big hugs. He’s not laughing at all of us in our silly dramas and defenses. He’s not sharpening knives, growing (and killing) bonsai trees, eating candy like some people pop pills. He’s not at my sister’s watching our little nephew or teaching him his laughing samurai ways. He’s gone.
I do not know what to do right now. There is nothing I can do to change anything, but I just want to kick and scream on a Rumpelstilskin level and crack the earth beneath my feet in frustration. I want to cry quietly in a corner somewhere. I want to hug all of my family all at once and never let go. I want to be with Jacob, bullshitting about the world, explaining ourselves away into contented understanding. We would always be laughing. Always thinking. Always interested in the world. I want to hear Ian and Jacob teasing each other and watching MacGyver. I want the chance to go back and savor each of these experiences all the more, and to make at least one more effort to spend time with him. To jump into snow with him in nothing more than our skivvies. To be closer to him. To be a better sister to him.
I love you Jacob. You were a thoughtful, spacey, ardent, funny, insightful, and artistic man, who brought comfort and sanity to those around you. You were an easy-going, fun-loving, entertaining, energetic, enthusiastic boy who I will always remember taking care of and watching grow. I wish you had had more opportunities to embark on the adventures you wanted so much to enjoy. I wish you had been able to have all the things you wished for. I am so glad you were here. With us. Being you. You are amazing. And we are all better for having known you.