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So I was thinking about my younger brother. People who know me, know the story. Let me share it with those of you who don't.
February 2, 2007. It was a Friday evening, around 6pm. I was at work and excited for the weekend. I had about 30 minutes left in my shift and I was on the phone with a customer. As I was finishing up with my customer, my cell phone began to vibrate. I glanced down at my hip and noticed my mother's number flashing across the screen. I remember thinking to myself, "Now why is she calling me? She knows I'm at work and I get off soon!" I decided I'd call her when I got off work, which at this point, was in less than 30 minutes. Another customer call came in and as I was completing that call, my cell phone started to vibrate again. My initial reaction was annoyance, but then I felt a pang of worry and decided to go out in the hall and call my mother back. My mother answered the phone sounding pretty normal. I asked her what was up. She said my name and my heart began to race. Though she hadn't said it yet, I KNEW something was wrong. Then, she said, "He gone, he gone. Cheryce, he gone." I began to panic and ask her who, "Mama who's gone??!" She proceeded to tell me that my little brother, Donvielle, had been killed in a car accident. Even as I type, it's difficult because all the feelings from that day, that moment, are coming back...It's a day, a time, a period in my life that will be impossible to forget and it changed my life forever.
I'll spare you the the details of my reaction and my parents', especially my mother's, overwhelming despair. You can probably imagine the void my baby brother felt after having his hero suddenly snatched away. I won't talk about how it felt to have memories of changing my brother's diapers and rocking him to sleep while picking out his casket and writing his obituary. 19 years old, on the way to get a haircut before work, and then. Just. Gone.
That night, that week, that month, I reflected on different things that occurred leading up to that day, attempting to make sense of it all. I wondered why it happened and questioned how God could let it. I thought about how, maybe a week or so before, Don had driven me to a friend's house. When we got there, he came in behind me and stood in the doorway, looking around. I recall asking him what he was doing and telling him that my friend's brother, who he was friends with, wasn't there. I don't remember his response, but I know I thought how strange it was for him to come in with me and then stand there like that. Even after I told him his friend wasn't there, he kept standing and looking, like it was his first time seeing it or like he knew it was the last time he would. On January 31st, Don gave my mother and me Valentine's day gifts. It was the first time he had ever done that. My mother and I were so surprised and grateful. I asked him why he had given us the gift so early and he said that he might not have any money when V-Day came around. I said, "We get paid again before Valentine's Day". I knew this because we got paid the same week, Don on Wednesday, while my payday was Friday. He just kind of shrugged it off. That would be the last day I'd see my brother alive. Thinking of those two instances made me think about whether or not he knew he was going to die. I wondered if he had some sort of premonition letting him know that something was about to happen.
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The same night that Don gave us those gifts, I had a dream. In the dream, we were at the funeral of one our church members, the mother of one of Don's really good friends. Don wasn't there. Somebody asked where he was and voiced their surprise at him not being there. About a month after his death, the woman whose funeral I dreamed of, passed away. In my dream, Don wasn't there because he left us first...
I still don't understand the why. I had a couple theories. Maybe he would have gotten involved with the wrong crowd or been in the wrong place at the wrong time, resulting in his life wasting away behind bars. It's possible that he could have died by the hands of a cowardly police officer. Perhaps he would have been an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire of rival gangs. Maybe God allowed Don to go the way he did to spare us the devastation of each of those scenarios. Or could it be that He just cared about my brother so much that He'd rather him be in heaven with Him, than endure any of those severely earth shattering events? I stopped trying to figure it out...well, maybe not completely. Sometimes I STILL wonder why... What I DO know is:

• How short and unpredictable life is. The cliche about life being short was one I frequently heard and often recited, but the concept was one I had never truly grasped. But now I get it. Since suffering such a great and sudden loss, I refuse to hold grudges. My feelings may get hurt, I may get angry, but I feel those things and/or talk about it (if I feel it's even worth a conversation) then I let it go. My goal is to live my best life by cherishing every moment and spending quality time actively loving the people who are important to me.
• I realized that it doesn't make sense to wait to do, say, or go. Our next second is not promised. I don't want to leave here with a bunch of shoulda, coulda, wouldas. I would like to avoid having another person leave me with regret about all the things I didn't do with or say to them while they were here.
• Time does NOT heal all wounds. In my opinion and in some cases, time just teaches us how to cope and continue living in spite of. I think over time the pain of the wound throbs less and the scar isn't as ugly, but it never completely goes away. It's like having an old injury. Many times after a sprain or fracture, you can go back to functioning as normal, but the pain may not totally disappear. It will flare up at certain times and the pain may fluctuate, but it's tolerable.
• I am strong! My family is strong!! There were times I couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel. I thought we'd never make it through, but God's strength is astonishing!

I miss and think about my brother every single day. I still find myself in disbelief that he's gone. I look at old pictures of him that don't go pass the age of 19. I visit his grave. I speak about him in the past tense. I shake my head at all of this because after 12 years, it's still surreal. It just doesn't seem right. But, I continue to find comfort in the happy thoughts of him, in sharing anecdotes, even in thinking about the inside jokes we would have and what his thoughts would be about certain things. And, I hang on to the hope that I will see him again one day.

​https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vfK5QhZ9u7o

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Donvielle Samuel Thompson March 21, 1987 - February 2, 2007