Life, Death, and My Birthday
Friday, December 14, 2007
On December 14, 1993, my brother Randy Gordon Ellegood passed away. It happened at just about this time, in the wee hours of the morning of my birthday.
I've written and re-written this blog about 20 times, and I just can't seem to get it right. I'm normally pretty eloquent, and am never at a shortage of words (just ask my family.) But right now I am unable to type from the heart. Exhaustion has set in, along with my sorrow.
My wonderful sister Shannon came over today and took me out for lunch at La Tea Da, the local tea room. We had a marvelous leisurely lunch, and then strolled the gift shop upstairs. On the way back to my house we talked briefly about Randy. She knew I needed her today, and she was here for me.
Tonight my niece Erin (she's more like my daughter) took me out Christmas shopping. We didn't talk about Randy, but I know that her goal was to keep me occupied so that I wouldn't be so sad. She did well. We had a great time...but always, in the back of my mind, was my sadness. I couldn't save my brother.
My husband is working midnights, so he was gone by the time I got home. Dear Daughter Alana took her medicine and went to bed.
Now I'm all alone, unable to type away the pain. The tears are flowing, and my nose is sore from all of the action with Puffs Plus. The Douglas Fir dressed in black and red in my brother's memory is at the side of the desk, reminding me of his final days. I think that I'll sign off for now and climb into bed with my fuzzy blanket and worn out stuffed bear, and remind myself that Randy didn't want me to be sad. Maybe, after all of the tears are gone and my guilt has been tucked back away into the deep recesses of my heart, I will finally be able to sleep and not dream of how I let him down.