cardboard paintings, chicken scratch & graffiti; pollution, light & love

my brother, at times, seems like he's slowly slipping away from me. i have yet to dream about him, which makes me wonder if there is some reason he isn't visiting me. i seldom expect him to show up at my front door anymore. or when some mystery number appears on my cell phone, my first instinct is to no longer guess that it's scottie calling from a random phone he borrowed, just to check in & say "hey." what always seems to get me, still, is when my mom tells me that she talked to my brother. my first instinct is to ask, "which one?" like i always used to do, out of some unconscious, unbreakable habit. i don't think i'll be able to say i have only one brother.

his death, although still so strange & surreal, is becoming more normal. i think about him often. i cry easily & quickly when i imagine seeing him in the hospital for the last time, not only 5 months ago. i fake a smile when harry points to his uncle scottie's pictures by the side of my bed, because i know that my son will only know him through those photos & the stories he will hear. & someday he can relive the day that his "scuncle" magically appeared at the birth center, or when he taught harry how to drum on the bongos in florida, or how we went to busch gardens & flea markets together. & although he may never see his uncle again, harry can be sure that he was beyond loved.

there are times i feel scottie's presence so strongly. like when we visit my father in law's gravesite. i feel this overwhelming sense that elliott & scott are together, wherever that is - i'm not sure. but i know they are next to each other, & happy, & without sickness of any kind. i see them taking care of each other. & watching out for the rest of the family, keeping us out of harm's way, as much as they are able to.

last august, when steve was visiting from china, my dad was up from florida, & scott was suffering from horrible hallucinations in my kitchen, mike & i had taken scott to a thrift store where we had bought him some clothes (because he hardly had any at that point). as we were leaving, i saw a small acrylic paint set & asked him if he wanted it, since the nice one i bought him for christmas was stolen by a former friend. i found those paints in his bag that he had brought back from florida in january. i went looking for them tonight. i was painting a card for a friend, & thought of how many times scottie & i painted on my back porch. i remembered wondering anxiously what he was going to do after he mangled his hand, but watching in utter amazement as he used his remaining fingers with such deliberation & determination. his art grew more creative, & became more haunted.

i cursed myself when i couldn't find those paints. i came across some of his brushes & an extra large crayon box. a pillowcase stuffed with pajama bottoms that he had left at my mother in law's house when he stayed there after elliott died. a disjointed poem in half chicken scratch & graffiti about pollution, truth, light & love. i smelled all of these priceless belongings, praying that a renegade molecule of scottie's smell would be left behind so that i could breathe him in.


then underneath my bed, i found dusty, hair-covered painting on a piece of cardboard. it was one of many scott had made for me over the years. some are lost, misplaced in moves or mistaken for recyclables - especially when painted on the back of pizza boxes. i'm not sure when scottie gave me this one - probably for christmas of 2009 or a recent birthday. this picture wasn't particularly my favorite. it's very busy with lots of sharpie tracing & paint on top of paint on top of paint. but discovering it tonight was like finding a missing wedding ring. especially when i turned the cardboard over & saw the message he had written:


SARAH & MIKE
I love you guys
& I love music
& I know you both do too...
Keep up the good work =)
LOVE
Scotty


along with his shred tag & other graffiti scribbles i couldn't decipher. i could hear mike faintly playing his guitar through his amp downstairs. & i felt my brother so near to me, listening along with me & drumming along approvingly.

i'm positive i'll find the paints when scottie wants me to. when he has something to tell me & i'm ready to listen.