808

Tonight I drive, and across the radio words ring Kieron. And he sits in the empty seat next to me, and we're on our way.

Talk about free...no worries... us, a dog, a cooler, a wad of fishing poles, and an obligation to wake up with the sun, to cast a line. And talk.

We were free. I was safe. He made it that way. He'd talk to me, ask questions that'd make me feel important because he'd listen with intent.

And when one of our taut lines yanked, he'd say "there". If it was his 808, I'd watch him as he set the hook, and felt his excitement. He'd reel, rod bowed, while my eyes alternated between his face and dancing line. Talk about free; there's no recollection I cherish more.

I loved Kieron Finnegan. I wonder where could he be, and what happened. He was beautiful. I look up in the bluebird sky, or the black sky, and wonder where he is.

Distance

Ironic it is that alive as I am, I feel closer to Death than I probably should. I go to bed with it every night and it awakens me most mornings. Of course I knew it was tough. Heresay told me as much...but I never knew just how tough b/c we were never formally introduced.

Kieron decided to be the liason on January 13th.

Now it's like an arch enemy. Now, quickly, we're familiar - last Thursday marks the four month anniversary of our acquaintance.

Death makes a God-awful first impression. But the lasting impression is in its follow-up work: Death makes memories wane. For sure, not many mention my brother much these days.

Dear Death: You can't take him from me.

2010 firsts, without

2010 means lots of meaningful days w/o Kieron. The first was his birthday, 3/17/2010. Today was my first birthday ever without my brother...43 years. It was also the baptism of our neice and nephew, Henry Finn and Juliet Guyton...another monumental day unshared by their proud uncle. Tuesday will be my son's 9th birthday, again the first w/o his uncle. As the months turn, more precious dates will endure and pass w/o Kieron. Special days in 2010 remain special but when I awake on these memorable mornings I think of Kieron first, and how much more special they were. Happy Easter bro, I miss the magic your smile made these days more magical. Good heavens how I miss you.

78 days

Losing my brother, and sharing a night with death at its onset and its reckoning, wrenched me...its aftermath does too, especially.

Especially the aftermath because with each day after, I am separated that much more by his last day. That it's now his death that ages instead of his life leaves it nearly unbearable.

So painfully and plain to see, but were it not for his exuberance for life; and mine for his.

Kieron Go Bragh

PS: April's 4th and 6th marks the birth dates of mine and Patrick's, respectively. One April 4th Kieron Patrick bought me a white polo shirt that I wore all spring with pride. Rest assured Patrick will be wearing a new white polo to school next Wednesday.

Happy Birthday Keek, we love you

Happy Birthday Keek!

I miss you so much.
I hope you can see all of us that miss you.
I love you very, very much.


Love Sarah Riley and family

Happy Birthday

I knew this day, your first b-day gone, would make no sense.

Slan Go Bragh

Irony is compelling. And you always found, and often spoke to me about the irony in life.

In 2010, on Jan 13th, you died on a Wednesday. Your 49th birthday, 3/17/2010, is next Wednesday.

Goodbyes, even simple ones, are uneasy for me and were for you too...and so how unimaginable is it to say goodbye to you, my most loved one. I didn't tell you on Jan 13th...I didn't say it at St. Francis. Because saying goodbye to you then, and now, means forever goodbye.

I tresaure your voice...tonite I can clearly hear you say "so long".

And from now until forever, I'll long for you.

Good Bye. I love you.

Died. Kieron died two wednesdays ago. He was just 48 years old...taken by some alien disease that touches nearly noone save an unlucky few.

To lessen the blow we use cliches about dying: "The agony is over...the suffering is gone...he's in a better place." Kieron agaonized over cliches. His better place was here...living, writing about here, experiencing here. Kieron was too young to die, and everyone knows it.

Life robbed Kieron. I looked at pictures of Kieron tonight and selfishly felt robbed of a precious life. Others and even I will reason out loud or think: what about the 42 years I was given of Kieron. But clarity prevails. He was too young.

Wednesday January 13th marks the day of forever mourning. For however rare Picks is the tragedy of a lost loved one is not. But the bite is no less, and tonite I curse the short stick he drew.

A celebration of life (another cliche)? Maybe...but tonite it's more of a scoff of life's cruelty.

JD Salinger died yesterday, two Wednesdays after Kieron. No irony except they were both writers who died on a Wednesday. Salinger was 91, published, world renown.

Kieron and I laughed together when we talked about Holden Caulfield.