This is the first of three posts in which I try to deal with my brother’s death. They are Danny, Acceptance and Goodbye.

My brother Danny, who as my best man years ago gave a touching speech that moved everyone to tears, came back from his second tour in Iraq three weeks ago. Moments after arriving at Fort Stewart, met by our mom, grandmother, and his girlfriend, he called me. We got to chat for a little bit. I congratulated him, told him that I am happy he returned home safely, and that I loved him.

In the weeks that followed, he married his girlfriend and moved into a trailer near post. His next plans were to buy the washer and dryer that they needed, put together a nice little network of gadgets (that I was going to help with!), and he met up with a lawyer to adopt his wife’s kids.

Two weeks ago he called me, but I had no signal. I called him back later on, but got his voicemail. I left a message saying that I’d try again later.

This Friday that just passed, my dad called me around noon. In a choked up voice, he told me that he had bad news. I knew that sound in his voice, that sound that I hated, that sound that he is about to tell me something terrible. I had half a mind to just hang up so that I wouldn’t hear it, but I didn’t. Now I wish I had.

“Danny killed himself.”

I can’t find the words to describe what I felt. I can only tell you that my mouth dropped, I couldn’t speak. Hot tears poured out of my eyes. All I could squeeze out of my throat was, “What?”

…

I thought I could write about this, but I can’t. I’m not ready. What can I possibly say? Danny was my brother for 25 years. Now he’s gone. He took himself away from me. I’ll never talk to him about all of our hobbies again. I’ll never hear that infectious laugh of his again (if his laugh didn’t coax you into laughing, then his jokes would). He was incredibly charismatic; not liking Danny wasn’t an option. When he was happy, no one could appear as elated as he was. He could imitate “the most annoying sound in the world” perfectly. He was a damn fine person, one I was proud to call my brother. But he took himself away from me. Now all I have are pictures that make me cry when I see them. I can only remember the good things for a short time, until the pain comes washing in.

I can’t begin to imagine what this is doing to my parents. My mom is standing strong, mostly for her need to not worry her mother. But her armor has chinks in it, and when one is exposed then she begins to fall apart. My dad… I didn’t expect him to be so unable to keep it together. It hurts him so much and he has no ability to hide it. I feel so bad for them; I can’t possibly understand what it is like for them to bury their son.

My other brother Carlos was pulled out of Iraq to attend his funeral. He should be stateside tonight.

This really hurts. I thought I would be able to write intelligently about this, but I can only write the thoughts that stream out.

I just wish this was a bad dream, or even a cruel prank. Anything that would bring him back.

I love you Danny. Rest in Peace.

Continued in Acceptance.