May is a shower of tears

There's been much to say without any words to describe what's rattling around in my head. Starting April 30th and through the mid-June is a rough stretch for us. April 30th was my Dad's birthday. First one without Jimmy. May 11th was Mothers' Day. First one without Jimmy. Tomorrow is my birthday. First one without Jimmy. May 28th is Jimmy's birthday. First one without Jimmy. June 5th is Jake's birthday. First one without Jimmy. June 15th is Fathers' Day. First one without Jimmy. It's a month jam-packed full of firsts. We barely get through one first, and we're upon the next. I expected Mothers' and Fathers' Days to be rough, the birthdays surprised me a bit. I guess I forgot how family-oriented birthdays have always been for us.

At the end of May, we'll travel to Wisconsin to scatter Jim's ashes. I anticipate that will be very difficult for me. I feel like there needs to be some permanent monument to my brother, so that all remember he walked this earth and was loved dearly. I fully understand the human need for cemeteries. I spent a good portion of my youth helping to tend the graves of my grandmother's relatives, so I was raised with those monuments to loved ones. Scattering ashes into the wind is the the exact opposite of that permanence. The symbolism of it to me is quite overwhelming. Kate asked if I wanted to keep some of the ashes. I didn't. I already have a private part of Jimmy with me all the time, in my heart. He's with me all the time, I didn't feel that I needed a physical part of him to feel that connection. I guess that seems rather contradictory - I want a physical public monument, but not a private one?

I guess I found some words to explain the haunt in my eyes this month. I'll miss you tomorrow little brother.

My 5th Birthday: May 14th, 1970 - Me, Jimmy, and cousin Rich