I knew something was wrong in that photo. I held my breath for a moment and dared not venture a guess. There he was my younger brother seated in his favorite armchair and there was a look of dismay clearly being communicated. It was as though he was a million miles away and only his body was in that chair.
Our Christmas seemed like any other at the time. Of course I was preoccupied with my own wants and needs under the tree. It was the year I became engaged and my engagement ring was part of the tree decorations. It is a wonder I even knew anyone else was in the room. I could understand how I missed his disconnection sitting in his favorite chair. But I was not missing it now. My only thought was
“What is wrong Jim?”
Jim was my younger brother who was seventeen years old and a senior in high school. He was an athlete and always had a sense of fun and pride in all that he did. He was a good looker and had a winning personality so the world was his for the taking. He was graduating in June and his dream was to play pro ball for the Yankees. There was not a sport that he did not excel in. I would not have been surprised if he accomplished that dream. He loved the game and played his heart out.
Our relationship had always been very special to each of us. We had gone through a pretty difficult childhood. Our family was splintered by our parents' divorce and a stepfather raising us with our mother for the past ten years. We spent a short time in foster care with only each other to open up to. As a result not only did we get through it, but a bond was formed resulting in an extraordinary friendship. I could talk to him about anything and I knew he would talk to me without a great deal of effort. We confided often and he was my best friend so I could not let this go by without talking to him. After I finished sorting through the pictures, I knew we needed to talk.
