After Zak died, grief robbed me and left me with gaping holes in my memory. Like a black out from drinking, some moments are crystal clear, my detail unshakeable and other swatches of time — gone.

It’s been eye opening  — the asking and receiving of snapshots in time from others who do remember.

My oldest brother, Dan, came down to see me in Florida a few weeks after Zak died. By this time I had found about husband’s prolific cheating, and I was pretty dedicated to vodka. Not scary dedicated, but we were in a committed relationship for sure.

Last week I asked Dan today about that time, when he came down. What I was like and what he remembers:

I didn’t start a conversation that was deeper or more serious than, “Want me to make you a drink?” or “I’m eating. Want anything?” Beyond that, I just let you do you. You did talk with me, but pretty much when you wanted to and about what you wanted to. And when you were done, that was it.

Basically, I just considered convo with you as a dance and let you lead.

__________________

On my end I remember being relieved by his presence. Drawing great comfort from a person I knew the longest in this life. He also was instrumental in the wedding dress debacle. I thanked him again for helping his little sister out.