Tomorrow is my brother’s birthday on August 9th and he would have been 69 years old. We have missed four birthdays together since he passed from Covid in the very beginning of the Pandemic. I still feel his presence all around me. There is not a single day that I don’t think of him and miss the wonderful times and birthdays we spent together. These cherished memories bring me comfort although I wish he was still here. Johnny loved a Black Forest cake–a recipe from our grandmother was his favorite. I will bake him one in honor of his birthday.

My life has been split in two parts–things that happened before my brother Johnny died, and things that happened after he passed from Covid in April 2020. There is no one I was so close and connected to for so long–66 years. We gave each other so much unconditional love, support, understanding, and kindness. I feel like I lost a huge part of myself and I am frequently so saddened by his loss. I am still trying to learn to live with such a significant loss.

No other losses in my life have made me totally aware of my mortality and finite time here on earth. I believe sibling loss tends to make one strive to make each day more valuable and meaningful for ourselves and for others. I suspect this is universal with most losses. I know I will heal when I continue to remember Johnny with more love than pain and find a meaningful way to honor his life.

One way I found is telling my 4-year-old granddaughter all about the great uncle she never met and I hope she grows up to be a Mensch like him. I also love to tell her how we played baseball together and went to so many Mets games together at the Polo Grounds and Shea Stadium. That was some of our happiest times sharing our love of baseball.

I am remembering my son Donovan saying ‘meow’ instead of ‘now’. He was a grown man saying meow. He would make me laugh. ‘What are you doing right meow mom’ ‘make me a sandwich meow mom’ ‘meow mama, let play Pokémon’. He picked it up after we watched Super Troopers. It’s a cult classic. Gosh I miss that so much. So silly.

I love you meow and always Donovan – Mom

No it won’t.

I have been in therapy and have had a psychiatrist ever since Donovan died of Covid. I AM in denial that my otherwise healthy 31-year-old son died of Covid. I still, after almost 2 years, can’t believe it. How could this be? My heart breaks everyday when I wake up in the morning. My handsome Donovan is gone.

Donovan’s 2-year angel anniversary is coming up in September. September 29. That will also be my husband Ozzie’s 5th month that he passed. Ozzie did not pass because of Covid but he was my strength during the hardest time in my life.

I have no one to talk me down from my heartache, anxiety, depression, memory induced spiraling out of control episodes. They ARE episodes. Some are short, most are long and dragged out and they are so much worse because my Ozzie is not here.

I love you Donovan. Always. Thank you my Ozzie for always being there for me.

Music always brings back loving memories of Jody. He loved all types of music: country, pop, rock, show tunes, and opera … Well, definitely not opera. Play something familiar and he’d be singing along. Patsy Cline’s “Crazy.” Michael Feinstein performing Roger’s and Hart’s “Isn’t it Romantic?”

A few days ago, I heard The Bangles’ “Walk Like an Egyptian” on the radio. This had to be one of Jody’s favorite songs to perform to. He knew all the dance moves — the flat hand gestures to the right and then the left, forming a pyramid with his hands in the air and his head bouncing up and down like a bobblehead doll. When the lyric said, “they spin around and they cross the floor,” he would twirl around in his wheelchair laughing with glee, singing along to the nonsense refrain “whey oh a whey oh.” A tune, a memory, a smile — always there to soothe the soul — at home or even along the Nile.