He's Gone.


I've put off writing this. It's too hard to face. My little brother is gone. He died November 28, 2017 at 3:00 p.m. mountain time.

I'm feeling so many emotions, I don't know how to catalog them or cope with them. Such a wide range; rage, intense sadness, normalcy, numbness, disbelief. Most of the time I try to pretend that everything is ok until I hit some sort of wall and everything crumbles. I crumble. Then I wonder if I'm stuffing it which was part of the problem that brought on the cancer and I panic and try to deal.

I'm finding it very hard to concentrate on anything lately. I'm restless yet unmotivated. My brain is in a fog that makes work incredibly hard and difficult - and the timing couldn't be worse as work is very busy and I need to keep my focus and get things done. Electronics, which have been my friend for so long as I'm rather tech-oriented, are not working the way they should. Example - texting is next to impossible for me, filled with such oddball typos that I know my fingers never were anywhere near the letters typed.

I feel robbed of time. My brother and I rarely spoke. I may have mentioned that. I didn't worry that he thought we were "too different" because I always thought I'd have time to charm him into a relationship. I feel guilt in that I didn't try hard enough now because I thought I'd have time, because he wasn't receptive to me now. He'd be later, so it was ok. And now I'll never have that.


I spoke to Mom about that and she tried to tell me that what we did have was real. It wasn't strained, wasn't fake or phony. (you all know the relationships where you cringe before you meet up and feel relief when you leave) I get that but... I wanted more.

He was socially awkward. He excelled in matters of the mind - education, business, finances (all areas where I kind of flopped for one reason or another). But he just couldn't understand people or be comfortable around them (whereas I could). Mom said we were mirrors of each other. That's true, or at least I thought it was.

I've been learning about his bicycling since he left. Stuart found his freedom, his "fit" in cycling. He'd been cycling for 36 years! I really don't know how to describe it and I've been staring at the screen for several moments trying to. He met quality people and they formed a bond over their love of cycling. He took risks, he flew, he was strong, he was ... free. 

And if he had to die, I can at least be in peace knowing that he was doing what he loved more than anything else in the world. That he was flying free. The video below and the music therein describe his freedom more than anything I could ever put into mere words.

Ride into the stars, brother. We'll miss you so, so much but we know you're riding out there, as happy as you could ever be.