Terry Alan Waspe (1975-2005)

Dear Terry,

This is something that I never thought I'd be writing to you. I never thought that there would be a need.

I cannot believe that you are gone. How can you be dead? Baby brothers aren't supposed to die before their big sisters. It's just not done. I thought I had told you that, but you never were very good at listening.

There are few childhood memories I have that don't involve you. I don't even remember the day you were born. To me, you've always been here. Now I have to go on without you, and I don't think I understand how to do that.

We had a typical brother/sister relationship: You broke my teapot playing indoor hockey, chopped off the head of my Princess Leia and wrote nasty notes to me using all the new swear words you'd learned at school. I was so mad when Mom said, "Well, at least he spelled all the words right."

We spent our summers playing badminton in the front yard or playing cards, like UNO. We played board games too, but you liked changing the rules, especially if you thought you were going to lose. We caught crayfish and leeches in the Creek. Made a fort in the woods near the house. Set off from home everyday, looking for adventure. Mom and Dad would call us back for lunch or dinner by ringing the big bell. We watched Star Wars together over and over again. Our habit of reciting the lines of movies either while we were watching or during a long car ride amused only us, driving everyone else crazy.

I remember when we peeled a green grape and popped it in Dad's mouth after he'd fallen alseep on the floor watching TV. He sat straight up and spit it across the room. He was so mad, but we thought that it was the funniest thing we'd ever seen.

You used to drive me crazy, but I can't think of someone who I have had more fun with and who has made me laugh as much as you have.

I remember the night you called me to tell me that you and Jen were getting married. I could hear the excitement in your voice and understood that even though you didn't need it, you were seeking my approval. I gave it, saying that I could not have been given a better sister had I picked her myself. I am grateful for your choice everyday. She is a beautiful, strong woman and a wonderful mother and I am so thankful to have her in my life.

Watching you with Jen over the years has made me understand the type of man that I would like to spend the rest of my life with. You've certainly given that person a tall order to fill.

It is a comfort that there are two miniature versions of you left behind in Mack and Rhyen. I see you in them so very clearly. I'm so happy to be a part of their lives, even though I will probably be called "Uncle Stacey" for the next ten years. If there is anything I need to do for the rest of my life it will be to help teach your children what a funny, goofy guy you were and how much you loved being their dad.

Over the past 29 years, you pushed me and tortured me as only a brother could, but you never gave me more than I could handle. I'm going to have to trust you on this one and go on anyway, without you, believing that losing you will somehow make me stronger: a better "uncle" to Mack and Rhyen, a better sister-in-law to Jen, a better daughter to Mom and Dad, and a better sister to Adam.

I am sorry that I didn't tell you often enough that I loved you. I guess I thought we'd have a whole lifetime together for you to understand how much I cared about you. Please think of every time I called you a jerk, a loser or you and Adam "the Evil Twins" as a backwards way of saying "I love you".

I'm sorry that we didn't get to spend more time together over the past few years, although the length of time we'd spent apart or the distance between us never seemed to make much of a difference in our relationship. Like any brother, you could push my buttons from across the room, even if I hadn't seen you in months. It was like time disappeared as soon as we'd make eye contact and you'd tilt your head and smirk at me and I'd immediately smile and want to hit you at the same time.

Saying goodbye to you is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. But I know I have to make my peace with this somehow.

Goodbye Terry. I love you. I will miss you for the rest of my life. Maybe even longer.

Filed under diary