it's been extremely difficult for me to write for the past couple months. as time ticks by, it has been harder to internalize my brother actually being gone. writing about it, let alone thinking about it, has become almost too much for me. each day that comes brings further realization that scottie is not here & that i will never be able to see him again. it has been nearly impossible for me to consider other things that are painful, like my grandma's long & hard recovery from heart surgery. or even the heart breaking tragedy in japan - i would avoid reading or watching anything about it. it's like my heart has been unable to handle any further pain. today was the first day in weeks that i felt compelled to share my feelings.one of scott's old girlfriends, & probably his first love, karen came back from haiti a couple days ago. she was one of the few of scott's friends i thought to contact when he was in the hospital back in january. i knew how much they meant to each other, even after all these years. & i didn't want karen to find out passively through a facebook post about my brother or some other impersonal means. she had the difficult task of grieving for scottie alone, 1500 miles away from her family & anyone who knew her free spirited, high school boyfriend. on top of that, she was surrounded daily by sick & malnourished children, extreme poverty, & a country still in peril from a devastating tragedy over a year ago.
my mom & i picked karen up at 16th & locust after she took the train in from new jersey. it was overcast & drizzling. we had been hoping to walk to rittenhouse square park from my house, about 3 miles away. but it wasn't looking very promising. we had breakfast at a cafe, & karen brought pages from her scrapbook: prom pictures of scottie & the dried corsage he had given her. she even had the piece of paper on which scott had written down our phone number. under it he wrote, in true scott humor, "ask for scott." karen had the first mixed cd he made for her, complete with a song from my husband's band & line drawings of our family dog, sadie. it was comforting to know that my brother would be preserved in another person's belongings, that she would be carrying his mementos when she moves her cardboard boxes from house to house, that he will be kept alive to whomever karen shares her keepsakes.
the clouds loomed ominously overhead as we ventured towards my brother's favorite place in philadelphia. harry fell asleep comfortably in his stroller as karen, mom & i talked endlessly about scott, pouring over what went wrong, but also about what was beautifully & undeniably perfect in his life. we thought about how many times scott had walked the same path, from rittenhouse to my house in west philly, because he didn't want to waste money on the train, & because he loved the exercise & the adventure. he probably saw a half dozen people he knew on the way & made sure to stop them to chat, compliment them on their shoes or shirt, possibly even invite them over to my house to meet me & my husband, or more recently his nephew harry. my mom & i vented over those friends, admitting that we had a difficult time fully accepting them. we knew how much scott loved all his friends, how he would do, & had done, nearly anything for them: including "lending" out countless amounts of dollars, giving his clothes or food even if he was cold or hungry, taking the fall for drugs. we concentrated on one particular friend, who had annoyed us for various reasons at the hospital & at the memorial we had for scottie the prior weekend. i told karen & my mom that i had been seeing him almost everyday i went out for a walk with harry & deliberately avoided his gaze so that i wouldn't have to talk to him. we didn't blame this person, or anyone else for that matter, for scott's drug & alcohol use or overdose. it is just hard to see others riding their bikes, smoking their cigarettes, smiling & laughing, when our scottie was the one to die.
the park wasn't too crowded. we walked to the middle of the square, where my brother used to spend so much of his time. i proudly showed off a couple of scottie's graffiti tags, which used to be such a source of frustration & anger for me & are now happy symbols of my brother's life & permanence, even in death. we sat by one particularly large defacement & my mom took out a portion of scottie's ashes. we had decided that we wanted to scatter some of his remains there, at his favorite philadelphia spot, where we could visit him whenever we wanted. we began our unstructured prayer when walking across the park was the exact friend my mom & i had just been discussing. we were immediately bummed. i tried looking away quickly but our eyes met & he waved. "did he see us?" my mom asked dejectedly. "i think so," i replied, slowly lifting my hand half heartedly, hoping he would pass through. but with a smile on his face, he changed directions & wheeled his bike towards us.
damn. it wasn't supposed to go this way. i had wanted an intimate & private time where a few of us who truly missed & loved scott could beautifully & respectfully dispose of his ashes. i reluctantly got up & gave him a hug. he had the same smile on his face that he had at the hospital, where he told us scottiescott's ashes right here... we are going to scatter them where he used to hang out the most... would you like to join us?"
i couldn't believe this dude was going to ruin this special moment for me. i had selfishly wanted scottie's ashes here because i could walk here with harry & talk about his uncle & visit him on days i particularly missed him. now this memory would be invaded by one of my brother's druggie friends who would rather have had his remembrance on 4-20, the marijuana lovers' favorite & most celebrated number. & suddenly i was reminded, as if scott himself was whispering into my ear, that he loved his friends. my brother would always bring them around, whether my family liked it or not (& more often than not we didn't), & he was never embarrassed by them & their smelly body odor, foul language, or booze & pot breath. my brother was proud to be their friend. he was always pleading with my mom & me to spend time with them. & he was doing it now, from wherever he was at that moment, fortuitously bringing us together. & i felt so honored & happy to hear my brother & oblige his selfless wish. & i knew how thrilled scottie would be to have us all together.
i looked up & saw how humbled scott's friend was after my mom asked him to participate. i took the clear plastic container & gently shook some airy ash & small pieces of bone onto the wet soil behind the graffitied column. we watched the dust swirl in the air then cling to the dirt, gently greying the ground. then my mom gave the jar to scottie's friend. he pointed to a nearby clearing & explained that last spring it was there that a whole bunch of their crew would sit around a deflated parachute & hang out for hours on end, smoking & talking in their unique solace amongst the conformity of the city. he walked out onto the lawn, slowly bent down & undid the cover. he saw that some bone fragments had accumulated on top so he thoughtfully shook the container. some ashes escaped into the wind, as if scott was blessing the sacred event. he carefully & lovingly made a peace sign with my brother, his friend's remains. it was a perfect & fitting tribute to scottie, who was always ending conversations with "peace" instead of goodbye.
we walked over to one other area that my mom & i had chosen a couple of weeks ago. 3 medium sized trees stood behind an exceptionally graffitied section of the fence where scott would spend a lot of time. karen cried as she poured out the rest of her first love's ashes. my mom & i started singing, watching scottie's dust flying away with the wind. i could feel my resentment & hurt being carried away as well, as if my brother himself was relieving me of such a heavy, unwanted & unnecessary burden.we hugged scottie's friend & i could feel such love & acceptance. he even wanted to hold harry for a bit. & it felt as if my brother was embracing his nephew. it was exactly how the day was supposed to unfold. it was perfect. & i knew my brother had orchestrated the whole thing. he even waited until we were a mile from home for it to start raining.
