A tribute to my brother

Thirty three years ago today, my brother Brent passed away.   He was killed in a motorcycle accident at the young age of 27.

I was in Tennessee with Mom, Dad and our dachsund Schatze when it happened.

Looking back….the trip was ‘off’ from the get go.  My Grandma had been very upset with me for choosing to go with my parents rather than stay with her.  Our little Schatze hurt her back on the way to Tennessee.  The air just felt unusually tense.  It was too hot.  Something in the motor home broke.  We came home from the Grand Ole Opry and there was a message to visit the office.  My Dad got the call.  The news was devastating.

Today is not for recounting all the ugly details. I’ve done that before and truly, there is no use going to that painful place today. The interesting thing is that I journaled about every moment during the trip.  Even without looking back, the memories are as vivid in my mind as if they had happened yesterday.

Today is for acknowledging my brother.  A beautiful, artistic soul who has been said to have been born ahead of his time.  A creative, warm spirit that I was just beginning to really get to know. A man who served his country and loved living overseas.

I miss him terribly.  I often wonder what he would be like today and wish I’d gotten to know him as an adult; and that my children could’ve known their cool uncle. I am incredibly thankful for his presence in my life for any amount of time.  Time.  Treasure it.

Suffice it to say, there is a space in many hearts that will always be only for Brent Eugene Suppes.  He is extraordinarily missed.

As his wife always says, “Forever Young”.  True story.

God bless you everyone.  Breathe in the moments, for the moments are all we have.

If I were to die today…

If I were to die today, I have walked among beauty. I have lived.

I woke up in a warm cozy bed surrounded by three fur babies that believe I am the best thing to have ever walked this earth.

I heard my tummy growl. I could taste and smell the warmth of the unmade coffee as I brought my cup to my lips.

My first thoughts were about my precious children and how deeply grateful I am for them in every way as we journey together through life.

The first human voice I heard was my precious momma telling me she was going to church. I know full well that getting to talk to her each day is a gift I treasure.

I walked outside to feel the glorious sun on my skin, the cool breeze surrounding me, the wet grass beneath my bare feet.

I looked into the bright side, surrounded by a clear,effervescent sky.

I shouted thank you God for breath and this beauty. I believe He heard my gratitude.

I picked the first two strawberries and saw the abundant growth in all the other plants.

I heard the plane flying overhead while the birds sing their songs…Seemingly oblivious to the plane.

As I walked back toward the house, I watched a big bunny rabbit hop across the entirety of the yard and a squirrel walk the fence.

Somehow my dogs did not notice and interrupt their mission.

I breathed it all in. Soak in the moment.

I wish that somebody could see and feel the picture inside my mind right now so vividly.

Because then…If either of us died in this moment, we would both know we had truly lived.

Soulful Saturday

Prepping to make Easter bread.

I haven’t made it the last two years…too many hurtful memories around the season.

This year, I’m making a choice to do different, even if it’s hard. It’s absolutely perfect outside and I’ve just made my billionth visit to my little planted garden today.

It’s as if I expect to see visible changes immediately. But just like my dear friend said, so much is going on below the surface, even when we can’t see it.

My “below the surface” has been working hard for so long and I feel like I’m starting to feel a smidgen of the new life that process brings. This means I’m still pruning what doesn’t belong to make room for new growth. (Aka letting go). That part kinda stinks. I’m physically energized and emotionally drained. Holding on for too long has taken ALL the effort.

Anyway…as I wandered around my yard, breathing in the fresh air, dancing around to Van Morrison, I thought to myself, “maybe some of my closest friends are right, maybe I shoulda been born in the flower child years.”

Ah well. Thankful for the hear and now, the new and the old.

I need to have lots of cookouts here this summer and fall…part of me believes/hopes/wonders if this is our last year in this home that has served us so well.

Tomorrow would be our Daddy’s 85th birthday. Of course, I would’ve made him his very own loaf of Easter bread. Maybe that’s why I keep coming outside, it’s so easy to feel connected with him here.

Anyway….breathing it all in.