On the morning of June 11, a drizzly start made me pick up my camera to take the above shot in case the day stayed dreary. My daily practice often starts with a photo replaced later as my day unfolds. The photograph that day, a premonition. Early evening, my sister would call, telling me my brother Sam died. Remembering her voice, I find myself in tears. I had to ask Meghan to repeat herself. When the impact hit, I wailed. Sam had many health challenges through the years, more than his fair share, but his death was sudden. And while it was peaceful for him, it shattered me and my family.
When I posted that photo in my daily photo group, the following words accompanied it:
“I didn't know Thursday morning.
When I took this photo. I didn't know.
That night my sister called. "Is Ty home? Are you sitting down?"
My brother died. It was around dinner time.
It was sudden, unexpected, fast. In a matter of minutes, really. And we are reeling, still.
And my life will never be the same.”
Sam’s gone. The permanence still takes my breath away.
Not two hours later a second phone call informed me that my dad was hospitalized shortly after, having undergone a heart attack. He is okay now but the following days were among the worst in my life. Being so far from home in the midst of the pandemic, grieving the loss of Sam, trying to understand what was going on with Dad, trying to figure out how to safely travel… all of it was too much. All of it is too much. It wasn’t the virus that took my brother, but it complicated decisions in the days and weeks that followed.
Some day I’ll have more words about Sam and his life and my relationship with him. These photos create something of an incomplete picture of that first week after losing my brother. I wanted to share and maybe eventually I’ll have more words and photos, more comprehension of what is and was. For now, I have this, early grief in just a few photos. The weeks of sharing a blog prior to the loss of Sam helped me process and gave me something tangible to put out in the world. I know Sam’s life shaped those who knew him profoundly. It mattered. It matters. I think more words and images will come. This, then, a start.
