Today would have been my brother’s 49th birthday.
This is a quiet little poem for him. I’ve written others that may be shared sometime. And I will probably write more.
Now You Know
Now you know the secrets of sunsets and sand dollars
Now you know the recipe for rainy days and rainbows
Now you know the why of the wind and its whispers
And now you know how much love I had for you in my heart
A longer reminiscence about my brother and our magical childhood at the beach in Southeast Texas can be found here.
June 2025 Update
The dVerse Poets Pub prompt for today, from Mish, is Poetics: Building from the Broken. She has a robust and diverse outlook on what we can contribute, from an individual perspective or a world perspective. The individual is right for me, and she listed these takes on it:
- Breaking Open to Become Whole – A time in your life when you knew nothing would be the same again.
- Metamorphosis of the Self – How pain or loss led to self-discovery and healing.
- Leaving the Old World Behind – A personal reinvention or a departure from a past identity.
- Love as a Crossroads – A moment when love or heartbreak redefined you.
Mish described losing her stepson to suicide in 2020, and the healing process she went through with her husband, which included a Kintsugi Bowl workshop. I hope you will read her post to learn about it. My heart goes out to her and her family.
I knew that my response to the prompt would be something I had already written about my brother’s suicide, but I’ve already contributed almost all of these poems to dVerse, here: suicide poems.
This one, though, was early in my grieving process, just two years after his death, and before our family was ready to share how he died openly.
I love this simple little poem so much, because it carries the grief so lightly and yet so intensely, and weaves so much of our life together into a few words.
Steve’s death was a crossroads for me, but also a signpost, an indelible message to grasp the goodness in life with steely claws and not let go. That goodness is entirely embodied in the rest of my people, the joys I live for. His departure broke me, but I remain a patched-up whole through the healing glue of the love of the rest of the family and extended family. I will never be the same—none of us will ever be the same—but our metamorphosis is a stronger and more lasting connection to each other.
© 2025, Glover Gardens
Those rich memories are carried by so many people. Our boys loved visiting you and Steve SO much!!!
Thank you, I’m so glad we’ve connected via our memories.
Sad but beautiful the love is evident. Beautiful
Thank you so much. I have visited your blog and find your outlook very interesting and stimulating. I’m following you now and am very glad we connected.
Aww thank you so much Kimberly. I love yours too. It’s very encouraging and interesting. I hope we stay connected 😊😊
Thanks gor sharing, these must have been very painful for you to write about
Happy you dropped by my blog
Much♡love
Painful, yes, but healing, too.
I always enjoy visiting your blog.
A simple, beautiful and heartbreaking tribute to your brother.
Thank you so much.
Now you know … and one day all of us will.
Yes. At least I hope so.
This is so bittersweet… I hope there is such place for him…
Me, too, Bjorn. Thank you.
Such a moving and heartfelt poem for your brother.
Thank you very much, Grace.
I am so moved by your poem. Obviously we share similar pain. Besides losing my stepson to suicide, I lost my only brother when he was just 36, very suddenly but not from suicide. It changed me forever and I can relate to the metamorphosis, the will to live better, differently, in their honour. I absolutely love the idea of “Now you know….”. A beautiful tribute. I am so sorry for your loss.
Your comment came through as anonymous, but whoever you are, I feel a connection. I am so sorry for your dual losses – and they do change you forever, don’t they? I love the way you addressed your pain and determination, and hope that you are also writing about your losses as part of the healing process. Thank you for helping me to honor my brother by reading and commenting on my poem, and I am spending a quiet moment sending thoughts of condolence and recovery to you.
I love the role regret plays in this poem. Thank you for sharing it! -a.
I really like the way you put that. I may start thinking of regret as a character. Not that I want to wallow, but to learn how to live more comfortably with it. I appreciate your feedback.