I Hope You Can Hear Me

I miss you...
I miss you so bad
I don't forget you, Oh it's so sad
I hope you can hear me
because I remember it clearly

[Chorus]
The day you slipped away
Was the day that I found
It won't be the same
No....

I didn't get around to kiss you
Goodbye on the hand
I wish that I could see you again
I know that I can't ooooooooooooh
I hope you can hear me
Cause I remember it clearly

[Chorus]
I've had my wake up, Won't you wake up
I keep asking why, And I can't take it
It wasn't fake, it happened - you passed by

Now you're gone, Now you're gone
There you go, There you go
Somewhere I can't bring you back
Now you're gone, Now you're gone
There you go, There you go
Somewhere you're not coming back

[Chorus]X2
I miss you...
-Slipped Away by Avril Lavigne

Come Out Wishing Star

But Possibly the World's Worst Daughter

Life made me an only child

I still haven't called my Mom yet to say Happy Mother's Day.

I am dragging my feet this year more than usual. I know I need too, and I even want too, but today is a painful reminder that I am the only one left to call her to wish her well on this day. I am sure it is the same for her and I hate the thought of making her feel that way, of having a conversation where we both pretend that everything is ok when we both know what is missing from this day.

Happy Mother's Day Mom. From the both of us.

A Brother Shaped Hole in the Universe

I have seen the fire of life

Just a Thought Away

Chris giving Wes a "Horsey Ride"

UP HORSEY, UP!

A poem I saw somewhere had the lines "It's memory's lovely garden that soothes the hurting heart." I guess it's true - two years after my brother's death I smile more at the memories and thoughts of him than not.

In some respects it is hard to believe it has been two years without him. And in others it seems like a lifetime.

Like a True Nature's Child

"Who can say where the road goes, where the day flows, only time..."
- Enya

Beautiful mornings like this often leave me wondering why the fates choose me over my brother to live and enjoy the gifts of the daily world. I am not in anyway very special or particularly more deserving than he was, yet I am the one who was left to smile when the sun hits my face. Some days it seems very unfair indeed, and there is both a guilt and a sense of duty associated with it.

I realize that lately I have been keeping my blog thoughts to myself – for many reasons: they may be too politically sensitive; too personal; too controversial; too boring, or perhaps I’ve just been too busy to blog. Truth be told all sorts of things are distracting me right now: PC Leadership Politics (rumours of at least two private citizens about to announce their bids for the leadership); Constituency Politics (My AGM is tomorrow and Mark Norris cancelled at the very last minute – but not before we spent 500.00 to advertise it); Our upcoming trip to Las Vegas (and Brett and Beatrice’s wedding); PLAYOFF HOCKEY (Go Flames Go!); finishing up university projects; kids medical problems (Wesley was diagnosed with Osgood-Schlatter`s Disease); and, among other mundane things, my dear Mother’s stubbornness (If you’re reading this Mom, know I mean that with utmost love).

Like Duncan said, at times life moves past the speed of Blog. Lately it is safe to say life has been moving pretty fast. Too fast perhaps? Not as long as I can manage it all - and there's always time for Plan B!

"When you're flying by the seat of your pants, nothing sounds more official than a Plan B."
-Narrator, Dukes of Hazzard (2005)

Nothing Gold Can Stay...

Chris Perkins 1974 - 2004

There was a time in my life (a much simpler time) when things were fair: when gentle lullabies made all hurts go away; when days were endless and summers forever; when the wishing star was magic, when goodbyes meant nothing and there was always enough time to fix everything... And then there was a day when it all went wrong.

There are a lot of different kinds of moments to be found in 365 days. Today contains the moments known as the first anniversary of my brother’s death.

Now there are the times in life when I want to tell him something, but I can't; when I'd do anything to hear his voice, but nothing works; when I remember something funny he did, yet he's not here to tease about it... or there's the times I see someone who looks so much like him that my heart stops and I can’t breathe. I can’t help myself, but I still entertain the childish hope that it was all some crazy mistake, a case of mistaken identity, and that one day I am going to get a phone call, or an email, or I really am going to see him on the street with that "Surprise I’m here" smile of his (my brother would often drop out of life only to reappear when you least expected him to).

Actually, there hasn't been a day since Chris died that I haven’t thought about him in some way. His death, like non other I’ve experienced, has affected me in profoundly deep ways: it was so unfair; he was too young: he deserved more than to die in such a senseless manner and place; I couldn’t protect him. I feel as if he was stolen from me and I can’t describe the anger and the pain that accompanies something like that.

He adored me; he was my first friend, my first enemy, my first charge. My little, baby brother that was born, I was sure, just as a gift for me. The relationship between siblings is a unique one and we were supposed to have our whole lives to explore it.

But never less, one year ago today, someone named Christopher Braden Robinson from Edson Alberta killed my brother.

And he has never even said he was sorry.

His last words were "I love you"

Darrin Morley Browatzke, age 30, was killed in northern Alberta when the SUV he was travelling in crashed head on into a semi trailer truck.

"I'm coming home Mommy. I love you."

Those were the last words he said to his Mom (Ivy Browatzke) before he left.

I can't count how many times I have wished I could have brought myself to say "I love you" to my brother instead of arguing with him the last time we spoke. It's not that I didn't mean it, I just wasn't thinking that would be the last time I ever talked to him.

Since then I have wrestled with myself to only leave my loved ones and friends with happy words and feelings, because you never know what is going to happen. And Darrin's story tends not to be the most common one, mine does.

Don't let life slip by

"He spends his whole life being too young
to live the life that's in his dreams
and then he lies awake and he wonders
why can't that be me?

... cause in his life he's filled
with all these good intentions
he's left a lot of things
he'd rather not mention right now
just before he says good night he looks up
with a little smile at me and he says

If I could be like that,
I would give anything,
Just to live one day in those shoes,
If I could live like that,
What would I do, what would I do?
- Three Doors Down

Hearing these lyrics made me think of my brother... he certainly spent his short life in some sort of catch up mode, never quite getting it together, never quite getting what he wanted, never quite staying out of trouble, never quite shaking that "too young for the life he wanted" dilemma. Always seeming to think that in the future everything would work out. Always in the future. But sometimes the future is too late.

Life is irony

So my brother was not always compelled to take care of himself financially (he got better with this as he grew up) and I used to joke with my parents that they were not to leave him to me in their will.

Here I am typing my Mom's will and I have been left my brother's remains, if they have not already been scattered upon my Mother's death.

The irony of that is a little sharp right now.

On Growing Up: Where do Butterflies come from?

Growing up is generally considered to be facilitated through the attainment of certain rites of passage, sometimes referred to as benchmarks or milestones, that tend to be held by our culture/society as important measures of achievement, progress and success, and the means by which one demonstrates their importance and/or place in the "grown up" world.

This understanding, however, is far more simplistic than realistic. We, as people, seem to search endlessly for the answer of what it means to be grown up. Is it when you can finally answer the questions "How can you understand how I feel if I don’t even understand?" or "When will it all make sense?" Is it when you get your first job, learn to drive, loss your virginity, get married, have a baby, buy your first car/house/portfolio? Is it when you have categorically succumbed to the many other stresses that our daily lives are riddled with and made it through?

I am considering writing a book (as always). This one is already there in my head, I just have to decide whether to share it or not. It does have a potential title – "The Year I Went Grey" but it might be more aptly named "The Year I Grew Up."

The story of ourselves growing up is the quintessential story of humanity and yet our child self eludes us adults like an enigmatic stranger discernable only with a sort of peripheral vision that we apply sparingly to our own memories with an intent curiosity, which is not unlike the process of revisionist history. It is the application of democracy to our childhood adventures, picking and choosing what we remember and with which way we remember it, how we tell our story. But sometimes the story's rightful beginning is not always at the very beginning.

At it’s start 2004 threatened to be just like any other year. Instead it rapidly became a year of tragic life lessons, a year of surrendering quietly to that which we can only live through and not change. I learnt the true meaning of acceptance, of coping, of priorities, of loving, of family, of living, of being a partner to my husband, of rising to meet challenges, of remaining sane.

In all of this, I learnt how to survive. I recognize now that it is within these themes that I have finally attained that level of maturity that, with all confidence, I can say to myself that I have finally become a "grown up".

And I am going to stretch my wings.

My Brother's Last Words

A couple of months before he was killed my brother packaged up a box of his important stuff (mainly pictures and keepsakes) and sent it to his best friend Geoff, with a card and letter attached.

I doubt he had a premonition about his impending death, especially given it's sudden accidental nature, but he did manage to achieve what many of us are left to regret in the end, not saying what you really need or want to say to those you care about. My brother reached out and touched one person that meant the world to him, and he was lucky enough to do it in time. Here is what he wrote:

My Friend,

It would bring me great joy to have this letter find you well. You may indeed find my card to you puzzling to say the least, although I am in full confidence that you will get the meaning in the words and title, for my friend, my brother from another mother as it were.

Anyhow as odd as it may seem your Mother and Father both had a hand in raising me and I have come to think of you more of a brother than my friend!

As it is in all my new knowledge, friends and people I know seem superfluvious in the shadow of the man I would call the only friend I have and the only man I think of and miss more than a good woman.

I know the hour of this card is late, for sure you have more questions then I have the answers to. There has been much afoot in these many months since I have seen you and I am sure more in the past years since I had left that I have let on. Although and to be sure I now know the true meaning of pain, among other emotions. Seems my other friends were right in calling me "Isakawuarte" (benevolent, mischievious, amoral, cunning, sly, resourceful, antagonistic and sometimes destructive). Yes, of all things I have been called or named, I like Isakawuate and it's meaning best.

I digress - and somethings are better said in council of friends with the aid of Ale!

The contents of the box are just some personal affects and in no way dangerous or illegal but I do ask it remain closed for now. Please keep it safe as I shall follow it home.

I hope you could read this, it seems my spoken word still is better than my written. Anyhow, and without further adieu, I shall see you soon my friend, my brother, may your home be filled with Laughter and joy.

Chris.

Good Night Sweetheart, Good Night

R.I.P. Christopher John Perkins

Till we meet tomorrow, Good night sweetheart,
Sleep will banish sorrow.
Tears and parting may make us forlorn,
But with the dawn a new day is born,
So I'll say Good night, sweetheart,
Tho' I'm not beside you, Good night, sweetheart,
Still my love will guide you
Dreams enfold you, in each one I'll hold you,

Good night, sweetheart, good night.

Chris's memorial went well today. It was comforting to see and hear the many things that those that knew him remebered most about him. I enjoyed hearing their kind words and came away knwing my brother a little more than I did before. I especially want to thank the people who helped me pull it together; Duncan, who graciously did the introduction and summation, Geoff (my brother's best friend) who said the Eulogy in a truly touching and heartwarming manner, Wesley (my son) who read one of my favourite poems; and Nikki (my long time friend who declared "I knew Chris when he was melting GI Joe guys") gave out the flowers bulbs we gave away in rememberance. It was a nice (and quick) ceremony and I was happy to see everyone again, albeit next time I hope it to be under different circumstances...

Life is just what happens to you while you're busy making other plans

Out on the ocean, ship sailing away
I can hardly wait To see you come of age
But I guess we'll just have to be patient
Cause it's a long way to go, a hard row to hoe
Yes it's a long way to go, but in the meantime,

Before you cross the street, take my hand,
Life is just what happens to you
while you're busy making other plans,

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful Boy.

Recently I have been trying to take just one day at a time...

But today it seems that several of them stuck up and hit me all at once. What a long day I had today. I feel like I was on the phone forever; I'm tired and I have a headache. But hopefully by tomorrow evening I will be able to declare that my brother's arrangements are in place and that we have a memorial to go to.

Duncan brought me back a box of photo's from my Mom when he was in Calgary that I just finished scanning and making picture disks for people. Interestingly enough, one of those pictures was a cute little picture of my brother wearing my frilly nightgown on Christmas morning when he was six. This picture was often the source of embarrassment for him, which ofcourse (being a fine and upstanding sister) I capitalized on as much as possible. When I first scanned this picture in, the file showed up blank. It was just a white picture. That made me smile. I figured if my brother really didn't want me to include that picture on his photodisk then the same would be repeated when I scanned it the second time as well (then that really would constitute a sign).

Isn't that cute? I almost forgot he was also wearing my pink housecoat. He would so kick my ass if he was here...

On the edge of something much too deep...

Remember all the good times that we had
Let them slip away from us when things got bad
Clearly I first saw you, smiling in the sun
I want to feel your warmth upon me,
I want to be the one

I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories

I'm so tired,I can't sleep
Standin' on the edge of something much too deep
It's funny how we feel so much
but we cannot say a word
We are screaming inside, we can't be heard

I'm so afraid to love you, but more afraid to lose
Clinging to a past that doesn't let me choose...

I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories
Sarah McLachlan

Only Time...

Who can say where the road goes,
Where the day flows?
Only time...

And who can say if your love grows,
As your heart chose?
Only time...

Who can say why your heart sighs,
As your love flies?
Only time...

And who can say why your heart cries,
When your love dies?
Only time...

Who can say when the roads meet,
That love might be,
In your heart.

And who can say when the day sleeps,
If the night keeps all your heart?
Night keeps all your heart...
Enya

Dear Editor's;

My brother, Chris Perkins, was killed on the Lion’s Gate Bridge August 8th. He was trying to direct cars around a stalled vehicle that was blocking traffic over the bridge. He was hit by a speeding vehicle from behind, thrown more than 10 feet, and killed instantly. He had just turned 30 years old.

This year, the World Health Organisation (WHO) designated road safety as a global public health issue, stating that road traffic deaths ranked second only to HIV/AIDS in leading causes of death for people aged 15–44. Each year, many more than 1 million people are killed on roads, and 50 million more are injured in some way.

It does seem to be an unavoidable fact that accidents happen, but by their very nature they are almost always preventable. Admittedly, few drivers set out to kill anyone, but this detail rarely eases the pain of the road bereaved.

The reality is that road safety is not an accident. It is up to each one of us to take the actions necessary to limit traffic related injuries and fatalities, regardless of how we are using the roadway.

Slow down. Speed is a factor in many road accidents, and it can turn any situation into a fatal one in just a few seconds.

Look where you're going. When driving, maintain an accurate perception of what is going on around you so you always have time to react appropriately.

Be considerate of other road-users, and try to keep a safe zone in mind when passing an emergency situation on the road. You never know when someone is going to be suddenly in front of you.

And for pedestrians; remember, the only thing that can stop a car is the driver. Be careful of how much trust with which you step out onto a road, you never know when or how that driver might be distracted. Some mistakes can’t be fixed.

My brother was somebody important and, like everyone else, he had dreams and a life to live, a life that ended much too soon. I only had one brother. Please slow down.

Allie Wojtaszek
Edmonton, Alberta

Today, 1978 seems so long ago.

How is it that a life can be reduced to this?

Passenger of broken-down van struck and killed while directing traffic

It's weird when you spend your time reading about other people's misfortunes in the news to suddenly be faced with seeing your own with such candidacy. For everyone looking at this story, that's just a body of someone they didn't know, someone who tried to help, who tried to do what was right as they saw fit, someone they are easily distanced from, or worse yet, even just another headline. It's odd to try to see this from that point of view.

For me, that's my brother under that blanket. His name is Chris Perkins and he turned 30 in July. That's the last image I will ever see of him. Sometimes Life really bites you in the ass. This has been a really bad year for that.