Picking up Joe’s Death Box, I shudder. The whole thing creeps me out.

Joe and I are very different people, and just because I think it’s creepy, I do understand that in some way it gives him comfort – so I respect it and never tease him about it. 

But I don’t like it.

And I’ve never opened it before now.

But I need to put this back in for him, even as I wonder what it was doing out.

It’s an antique brooch; an old woman’s brooch to be exact. And it was Iola Morton’s.

The pin had come out of the latch on the back and that’s what stabbed my finger when I reached into the back of the closet.

What was it doing out?

Lifting the lid gingerly off the box, I hold my breath. I’m not sure exactly what I’m expecting to happen…but like I said, this whole thing creeps me out.

I’ll just drop the brooch in the box…close the lid….Hey, what’s this?

It’s the wrapper of a bar.  An Aero bar.

What’s that doing in a death box??

Stunned, I sit down on the floor and take out the crumpled up wrapper. It can’t be…can it?

“Are you hungry?”  I whispered to Joe, trying to help him calm down.

I could feel Joe nod his head and keeping one arm still around my brother’s body, I rooted through my pocket – I knew I had a half an Aero Bar left over from the Carnival.  Pulling it out, I felt bad – it was a squished, icky mess now.

“I have a bar…but it’s squished,” I told Joe, wishing I had thought to at least not have lain on it when I was looking in through the window.

Joe devoured what little there was.

He hadn’t eaten in almost 18 hours… and he was only five years old.

Without a doubt, I know it is.

Joe must have gotten it out of my pocket sometime later….

This is the wrapper from that bar I gave him twelve years ago.

Damn Miles and Darla Nightingale.

Angrily, I toss the wrapper back into the box, make sure the brooch is in, and close the lid.

I don’t want to see what else he has in there. I know there will be other keepsakes from Iola, but I feel like I’m intruding. These are his personal memories of his personal hurts.

Yeah, I hurt too, when Iola Morton died – she was my oldest friend’s little sister and my brother’s girlfriend. But I also grieved for Joe – for what he lost and how lost he became….And in many ways I hurt more for him then for her.

It is harder on those left behind than on those who do the leaving.

What was it Mary Elizabeth Frye wrote?

Do not stand at my grave and weep

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush,

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry.

I am not there: I did not die

Shivering, I wonder if the heat is on in Joe’s room. It feels a bit cold in here.

The Mortons gave Joe the brooch.  Right out of the casket – now talk about creepy.

Well not actually out of the casket….But it was supposed to go with her.  And at the last moment, Mrs. Morton changed her mind and gave it to Joe instead.

Man…what a moment. My little brother was so overwhelmed he almost collapsed. And probably would have if I hadn’t had the foresight to keep a close eye on him.

Joe loved Iola. He still does, I guess.

I can’t ever understand what it’s like for him – and honestly, I pray to God I never have to walk that mile in my brother’s shoes….And yet I would die for him in a heartbeat.

And kill for him in even less….

Putting the Death Box back up on the top shelf, I sit down for a few moments to take a break. This is not really physically demanding work, but it’s been a draining day.

I should check on Joe again.  I have to keep an eye on him….

* * *

He’s still sleeping.  Good. He could use it.

Mom is out of town right now, but I suspect she’ll be flying back as soon as Dad tells her what happened today. I suppose I could call her but I think I’d rather have dad do that.

It’s bad enough that I know what happened was my fault – I don’t need to hear the disappointment in her voice as well.

Frank you should have known better….Yeah, I should have.

But I was distracted.