By Mia Daignault ’20
It’s all my family talks about. It’s the chit chatter at the dinner table. It’s the next post on social media and it’s the next life of graduates as they leave their childhood homes. The inevitable has arrived: the year that my brother leaves for college. Yet I am going to have to live my life in Westport for two more years. Two more years of waiting for the next time I get to visit my brother.
The notion that my brother won’t be my chauffeur, my partner in crime and best friend anymore sticks with me. It’s impossible to comprehend the truth: he will be gone for four years. Yeah, sure I get to see him, but things will never be the same. I feel like all the memories we once created are being erased. I feel like an only child.
It’s hard not to sound melodramatic, but who’s going to pick me up at midnight when I don’t feel like sleeping over? Who’s going to save me from my boredom? Who’s going to bring so much positivity home everyday?
I’ll always remember the time he held my hand and walked me up the street for my first day of elementary school. I’ll always remember the time he bailed me out of a party and picked up me and my friends. I’ll always remember his college visits that have since become an alarming reality. I’ll never forget all the times he has had my back and gone out of his way to maintain such a close relationship with me.
The feeling of being left behind is discouraging; I feel like I’m no longer apart of my brother’s life that I was once so involved in.
There’s no doubt that I will still barge into my brother’s room without knocking, but I won’t hear his voice telling me to get out. I’ll still call him for my next ride, but remember he’s two hours away at Providence College. It’s going to be hard not having anyone to blame when I forget to walk the dog.
According to Lisa B. Anthan, the director of the normalizing grief organizations says, “grief is not only due to a death or divorce, but grief can come from any type of separation, ending or change in our lives.” It looks like I’m grieving already. The fear of change and separation is traumatizing.
While I’m ready for him to become independent and stop asking me how to make a box of mac & cheese, things will definitely be different. I’m sure the car is going to be unbearable with such silence. The rap music he allows me to blast will no longer be tolerated with my parents as my passengers. There will be no one to join in with my thunder.
It’s an understatement to say that I am dreading the drive to drop off my brother. I’m dreading the day where I’m forced to say goodbye and good luck. It will be a day where I hope my parents cry so I’m not the only one.
As he prepares for college, I want to live up to my brother’s values even though I am aware he can’t watch me every step of the day. I guess it’s a see you later.
Photo by Mia Daignault ’20
