I have never felt this hysterical, this panicked in my life. There is no relief, not for one second. I am comforted by the fact that he is at peace and that all I have to do is shut my eyes and I can feel him with me. But the pain of never seeing my brother again.. it is unbearable. There is literally nothing I can do about it.
The only thing I can think to do.. is write.. and write.. and write.
I keep seeing his name on Facebook along with "we'll miss you" and "RIP" and it's the most disorienting feeling because.. there's no way all those people could be talking about MY brother. MY brother is just FINE, thank you. MY brother is just a phone call away, he could be here in a second if I called him and how funny it will be to tell him all of this and what a crazy mistake everyone has made.
Then I remember Thursday night. It's not a dream.. is it? It's real. TOO real. It goes from being incomprehensible to so painstakingly clear in a fraction of a second. It's like taking a sledgehammer to the chest when the realization hits.
It's ironic that Matt struggled with being able to breathe all his life and yet the memories that he left behind are enabling me to breathe now.
I thank God every single second that the last thing my brother and I said to each other was "I love you." Even though those were our parting words, what I wouldn't give to say it one more time.
I would do anything.. ANYTHING.. to hug him just one more time. I would endure any amount of pain to have just one more conversation with him. One more cup of coffee.
Just one more.. just one more.. It wouldn't be enough. I know this. My heart is broken so I'm left adding "just one more time" onto everything.
I feel like I'm stuck in a washing machine that's set to "crazy." Or like I'm in the jaws of a wild animal that's shaking me mercilessly back and forth. The pain is unrelenting and more surreal than anything I've ever felt.
I am completely broken.
Matt was one year old when he was given his first shot of epinephrine and diagnosed as an asthmatic. From then on, he had at least one really bad asthma attack a month. My parents would sit up all night, rocking him, afraid they would lose him.
Let me tell you though.. my brother-- he was a fighter. My parents were always worried about him overexerting himself and playing too hard and worrying about him getting sick but in actuality, I think he was tougher than the rest of the family combined.
I didn't like it when Matt would get sick but before I was old enough to go to school I absolutely LOVED when he would be home for several days or even weeks at a time. So clearly I can remember being five years old, which put Matt at ten, and he and I would hang out all day, watching Dino-Riders, setting up wars between our armies of tiny plastic green men and playing with Legos (which was a HUGE deal since he had built entire CITIES of Legos and to let his clumsy five year old sister fumble around with them was true sibling love because he knew I'd destroy them all on accident.)
He'd even humor me and have tea parties and play dolls with me. I'm sure he would just LOVE that I'm divulging that tidbit of information but my point is.. THAT is what an awesome big brother he was.
As we got a little older, I was (and always will be) in total awe of Matt. I didn't just see him as a rockstar, he was my hero. He introduced me to the world of Green Day, Nirvana and Guns N' Roses, to name a few. His musical taste was impeccable.
Anyone that knows Matt pictures him with a guitar in his hand. NO ONE could play like my brother. In his hands, a regular ol' guitar turned into pure magic. I mean I know he KNEW he had talent but he was always so humble about it. Man, he was such a musical genius.
He played in numerous bands over the years and wrote hundreds and hundreds of songs. He is hands-down the most talented musician I will ever know. I think he saw things in terms of music. It was his calling.
He always had such a rockstar quality about him. It wasn't only the music he played.. it was him. His persona carried with it an electrifying charisma and coolness that can't be emulated.
It's strange how when someone harms your sibling all you can do is think about tackling them and beating the crap out of them.
If only asthma would take a human form for a couple minutes, the pain I would inflict.. The sister (and five year old) in me wrinkles up my nose, sticks out my tongue and says, "Oh YEAH? Well he beat you for THIRTY-ONE YEARS.. AND he's in Heaven now, so you didn't win, HE did. So SCREW. YOU." (Well that's the censored version anyway.)
I can't help but be so irritated by the people that I see driving down the road who, by the way, are total strangers and I have no right to be angry with, but they're just driving along.. living their lives.. like nothing happened. Like everything is JUST FINE. Really all I want to do is ram their little cars and tell them to get those annoying smiles off their faces and remind them that the world has stopped turning.. SO ACT LIKE IT. I want to shake them and say, "Don't you GET IT? My brother is GONE and I'll never see him again and the world will NEVER be right and I don't CARE if you didn't know him.. DON'T YOU DARE SMILE AT ME AND TELL ME TO 'HAVE A NICE DAY,' you annoying gas station attendant, or I may jump behind that counter and maul you.."
You get where I'm going with this, right? It hurts that MY world has stopped turning but the rest of the world goes on. This, to me, is one of the most painful parts of tragedy.
"A sibling may be the keeper of one's identity, the only person with the keys to one's unfettered, more fundamental self." ~Marian Sandmaier
Siblings hold keys to our past that no one else can begin to imagine or understand. Siblings are bound by history and the deepest foundation of family.
Mike and I were talking about how when you're with your sibling you just have a feeling of being home. When you're with them you know you've got someone who'll stand by you no matter what. Siblings are one of life's greatest blessings. Not that I didn't appreciate and value my brothers before, but every time I hug Mike from now on I can tell you it will be a lot tighter.
There is nothing like a sibling. I grew up with two big brothers and in my eyes, brothers are the same as superheroes. They know EXACTLY what to say when you're heartbroken. Just with their words they can mend a day that would've otherwise been complete crap. They swoop in to help when everyone else goes running scared. They scoop you up and put you back on your feet when the world has beaten you down. My world is short one superhero and my heart is broken.
"You don't choose your family. They are God's gift to you, as you are to them."
The above quote echoes over and over in my head, along with what someone told my parents Thursday night: "God loans your children to you, but they belong to Him." It's the same with a sibling. They are your gift, straight from God, put in your life as a built-in best friend. You need to cherish every single second and memory you have with them because in an instant, they could be taken away forever. Likewise, you have to be a gift to your family as well. I hope and pray my brother was as thankful to have me as a sister as I am to have had him as a brother.
Three memories repeat over and over in my head tonight:
When I was in first grade I remember the brother of one of Matt's friends coming up to me on the playground at school and saying, "Isn't your last name 'Tenniswood?' Do you know Matt?"
"That's my brother," I replied, with a gap-toothed six-year old grin. (That should let you know right there how cool my brother was.. even the fifth graders were ok with being seen with my first-grade self because I was Matt Tenniswood's little sister.)
Then I was 14 years old and Matt's band had won the Battle Of The Bands. I remember the night the Vermicious Knids aired on the radio playing "Somber" and how proud I was of him.
"That's my brother," I told the friends I was with, beaming with pride to be his sister.
Then there was Thursday night. The worst night of my life. I saw the ambulance, leapt out of my car and ran as fast as I could toward it. My feet felt so heavy like there were weights tied to them. The lights. The confusion. The leaves crunching under my feet as they pounded against the concrete. The paramedic that stood between me and my brother: "Excuse me? Ma'am? Are you a relative?"
"THAT'S MY BROTHER," I heard myself scream and sob.
It just has to be a dream.. it just HAS to be. If only I could wake up.
Matt wrote songs for his nephew and nieces. He loved them all so much. He was such an AWESOME uncle. My kids will miss him so much. Thinking about how Matt won't be able to watch them grow up makes my heart burn with pain. There are so many memories he made with them and I am so thankful for each one.
Patrick's favorite memories of Uncle Matt are of them jumping on the trampoline together and Matt playing on the scooters with Pat.
Anna immediately yelled, "SANDBOX!" when I asked what her favorite thing to do with Uncle Matt was. Matt would come over and literally play in that sandbox for hours with them and all three would come in covered in sand with big smiles on their faces.
Five years older than me, Matt had the 'protective big brother' role down pat. He was forEVER looking out for me and bailing me out of all kinds of trouble when I was a teenager. I'm talkin' the "it's-3am-and-I-have-no-idea-where-I-am-but-I-need-you-to-figure-it-out-and-come-get-me" kind of trouble.
"Lil' sis," he'd say and put his arm around me, "You had me worried. You gotta be careful.. what would I do without my little sister?"
I've been carrying around his guitar picks and his inhaler in my pocket since Thursday. I sleep in one of his sweatshirts every night. Is that weird? Yup, probably.. and guess what? I really don't care if it is. And if I have to take another drive that results in screaming and punching the steering wheel repeatedly, so be it. I'll grieve how I want, thanks. I know Matt would understand it so frankly I couldn't care less if anyone else does or doesn't.
My family and I are so touched by everyone that has reached out to support us, pray for us and let us know they are there for us. Even people I'm not close with and haven't talked to in like ten years have extended the need to want to do SOMETHING to help.. ANYTHING, most have said. You should know that just by praying for us and the offering of your help.. you are helping us.
It has been such a comfort to me to see a lot of Matt's friends from over the years.. from elementary school, high school, his college years.. Matt was drawn to people that were a lot like him. The kind that would drop every thing in their arms in order to open a door for you or would help you through any situation, no matter the cost and expect nothing in return. The kind that are loyal through thick and thin. I am so thankful to know my brother had so many loyal friends that thought the world of him.
Matt would be SO honored and appreciative of everyone's thoughts and prayers. He was so humble and grateful for everything that everyone ever did for him. He was so kind and considerate of everyone's feelings. If he stepped on a bug, he'd think about it for weeks. His conscience was THAT tender. He would be so honored by the love shown by all of you over the past few days.
Today I watched my big brother be buried. Today I said goodbye to one of the best friends I will ever have. Today I felt my heart ripped out of my chest as the reality of never seeing my brother again slammed into me.
Tomorrow is Day 6 of being without Matt. It's been six days since my world stopped turning.
Matt, words fail to express how much I love you. You are my big brother and hero. Thank you for every memory, every story you told me, every piece of advice. Nothing I write will bring justice to describing how kind-hearted, gentle and wonderful you were for thirty-one years. You are gone but NEVER forgotten. I am honored to be your little sister.
Rest in peace, brother.
I love you. Forever.
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