1971-2022
If you’ve visited my blog before, you see that I’ve changed my writing name to Verna James. James was my brother’s first name and I’ve taken it in memory of him. I’m so sorry to tell you and still can’t believe it, but on February 9, 2022, he passed away.
That day around 3 pm, his good friend and co-worker called me at work to ask if I’d spoken to him that day. I hadn’t, and thought it was strange. We often texted and emailed all day long.
No, I said. But I saw him last night. He had asked me to drive by his apartment because he made a new healthy pasta dish he wanted me to try. Sure thing! I said. Now I think, why didn’t I get out of the car and give him a hug? Why didn’t I go inside and ask if we could watch youtube videos? I could have been there when he needed me and called for help, or done something.
But all I did was say, Thanks! and drove off.
That last image of him is seared onto my heart. His black hoodie partially zipped up but still showed his gold chain and the anchor charm necklace he loved, and the look on his face; tired and pale. He’d said he felt a little woozy the past few days because he’d been working a lot.
He’ll be ok. He just needs to rest this weekend and he’ll be fine.
On the phone, his co-worker asked if I had keys, she was there with police for a wellness check and they’d rather not break down the door.
I’ll be right there, I said. I texted my brother from the car.
Jim, Please!
He’s out on one of his walks, I thought. He walked miles every day for exercise and to clear his head. Walking meditation, he called it.
I saw the three police cars as I pulled up to his building and my hands were shaking so badly I couldn’t work the keys. One of the officers took them from me. My brother’s dogs ran out and I grabbed them.
The police walked into his bedroom and came out again.
He’s not there, I said?
Sit down, one of the officers said.
Is he in there?
Sit.
I don’t remember the words they said. They called for paramedics.
So he’s going to be ok? The paramedics are coming.
No, the officer said.
Later someone said that it’s the law in Illinois for paramedics to pronounce death. I was shaking and sat on the couch. I’m shaking now. I kept telling my brother’s friend that it wasn’t true, it’s not possible.
I went into the room, and saw my brother and best friend. Turned on his side facing the wall, sleeping like he did since a little boy. I shook him and called his name but he didn’t wake up.
This can’t be happening.
After the paramedics left, the officer stayed and said did I have a funeral home in mind to use.
No I said. I remembered one that was close by and they came to the apartment.
The stretcher with wheels.
My brother was only 50, and I asked if we could have an autopsy to find out what happened. Yes they said. The funeral home will transport him to the medical examiner.
After everybody left I sat in my brother’s apartment. I fed his dogs and took them out.
It can’t be real.
My brother and I always promised each other we’d take care of each other’s pets. That was the most important thing. I couldn’t have dogs where I lived.
The first night I hardly slept but finally was able to close my eyes for an hour or so. I dreamt that my brother had laid out heart shaped bowls for me. And I had a flash of him already back in Spirit, with one of his guides, as an Egyptian scholar.
My brother and I believe in reincarnation. We believe that souls are eternal and when the physical body dies in one lifetime, it is merely cast away like an old shell and our soul lives on, the energy does not die, or “pass away,” but changes. And that we return.
Where do we go between lives? Where was my brother at that very moment? I particularly like the idea of a beautiful in-between lives place where there are always colorful wildflowers blooming, bright blue skies, a warm breeze, and all our pets who have already cast away their shells in earthly lifetimes are there, young and healthy, and they run to greet us as we arrive. We reunite with all of them, and other loved ones who have made this transition before us.
The first few nights afterwards, I woke up in a panic. What am I going to do without my brother? He was my go-to person for everything. Anytime I had to make a decision, or talk things through with someone, he was the one I called. We spent every holiday together. We took care of each other’s pets. We helped each other move. We were siblings as well as best friends.
My first idea was to see if I could take over his lease and if the landlord would accept me to bring my cats. Two stressful and scary days later, I thanked God and my lucky stars that I was approved and could take over the lease and take care of our pets. I’m still thanking God for that every day.
My first memory as a child is of him; three years younger than me and sitting in front of the refrigerator spelling out words with little magnet alphabet letters.
I remember the blue leather coat he wore to the zoo once, and the goose who chased him. I remember the tv shows we loved and watched together as kids. I remember how we were both sitting with my mother on her favorite blue couch when she cast off her earthly shell. I remember.
I talk to my brother all the time. I wear his black hoodie. I tell his pets that he’s watching over them and it’s going to be ok. But the panicky feeling never fully leaves me. I know that my brother and I have shared many lifetimes and we will share many more. It’s just that right now, there’s an empty place that the person of him filled.
You were lucky if he ever cooked for you. He loved to cook and was the best cook ever. Meatballs were his specialty! Also pasta, and his favorite Christmas Eve dish was probably mussels in red gravy.
I miss that every Sunday at 4, (except during football season lol) he’d come over and sometimes I’d order food. I miss his daily emails and texts, the youtube videos he’d send me, the movies he’d tell me about. His wise surmising of world events, his funny stories, his laugh. Those things are gone except in my memory. We celebrated every holiday together; he was my only family.
He sends me signs. the male and female cardinal I’ve seen and heard weekly, the white feathers along my path, the dreams, his voice I swear I can hear sometimes, his name written in cement.
How do you sum up such a rich wonderful life? My brother, the diehard Hawks and White Sox fan, the voracious reader, the best cook ever, the big-hearted pet lover, sushi-not-liking, best meatball and gravy maker, proud to be Italian, Robert De Niro movie lover, the best brother ever. James Catalano.
#amreading #bethechange #lovingthisbook animals Arles Art Art Institute of Chicago Badger Beth Lewis books Chicago Election Enchanted fictional chatacters Fourfictionalcharacters garden green greenies Halloween kids libraries library Lizzie Look Homeward Angel Manet nature Painting Pride and Prejudice Princess Giselle Rape reading Scary self-esteem Sexual Assault Sexual Assault Awareness and Prevention Month soul The Wind in the Willows The Wolf Road Thomas Wolfe Threefictionalcharacters Tracy Flick Van Gogh vegetables Vincent Van Gogh Wolf
#amreading #bethechange #lovingthisbook animals Arles Art Art Institute of Chicago Badger Beth Lewis books Chicago Election Enchanted fictional chatacters Fourfictionalcharacters garden green greenies Halloween kids libraries library Lizzie Look Homeward Angel Manet nature Painting Pride and Prejudice Princess Giselle Rape reading Scary self-esteem Sexual Assault Sexual Assault Awareness and Prevention Month soul The Wind in the Willows The Wolf Road Thomas Wolfe Threefictionalcharacters Tracy Flick Van Gogh vegetables Vincent Van Gogh Wolf
Verna Clover 