In loving tribute

Sunday we (Liorah, Cindy, Aaron, and I) went and paid a loving tribute to our brother Jon. Liorah and Cindy say Jon always wanted a tattoo.
Normally, I am against the idea of a tattoo, because it doesn't seem worth putting something on your body that in time may mean nothing. But this was a bit different, and I wanted to do something with Liorah and Cindy in their honor of Jon. It was a bit painful, and I wish that I had placed it lower to make it more discreet in swimsuit season, but than I remember the pain of the needle affecting the entire area, and I think-no, it is okay where it is at.

I vacillate between nothing and something. Some little insight or another will cause my heart to grieve, and than I finish my thought and move on to the next thing. My saddest experience of the heart is when I listen to Liorah and Cindy relate their stories of Jon, and I realize that I did not know him as they know him. yes, I love him with a fierce love that burns deep, but as a companion, I did not really know him-and I am jealous. I know that I would not have been able to do all that they did because I have my family and other such responsibilities tied to that, but I would have been able to participate in at least half of their crazy stuff. I am not Liorah, and I am not Cindy, or any other wild/crazy friend he had in his life...but I know that I would have given myself as a shelter when he wanted one. If it was not Liorah he sought it from. I am not stating any "if onlys" what I am stating is, "I miss not being able to experience my brother and his life as others were gifted to experience." I want to be available to experience my other siblings.

My grief process will take a long time. My sorrow will relieve itself in little increments, and my wonderings will answer themself in time. I am patient with that knowledge, I hope others will be too.

Adios.