Sisters without a brother.

A week ago, things were very different.  Around this time last Monday, my phone rang.  It was the big change.

My stepbrother Biggie passed away unexpectedly last Monday. He was 28.

I am in pieces.  I am aching for Biggie, I am aching for my dad and stepmom, for my stepsisters, for me, for every piece of my wonderful blended family, and for the unit that is my blended family.

I know I took Biggie for granted.  I have felt terrible about this all week, but I came to realize listening to everyone who knew him talk about him and his big, open heart, that this was another testament to his character.  I was able to take Biggie for granted because he was so full of love and so accepting of all people.  He could have chosen not to open up to me and my sisters, and my husband.  He could have chose to not accept my mom, her brother and his wife, their son.  He could have been irritated by or resented me.  He could have chosen not to participate in our family happenings.  But he didn't.  Biggie accepted us all and was always there, always a part of things.  

Until our parents married in 2007, I called Biggie my faux bro.  I'd never had a brother. When I called him my stepbrother, people would ask if our parents had married, but for me, that had nothing to do with it.  Our families had come together and he was my family.  So, faux bro.  No one can argue with terms you make up.

I imagined my future involved a posse of dudes comprised of my brother-in-law, my closest cousin, and Biggie.  These were going to be the guys surrounding me and cracking jokes, for the rest of my life.  Life continues to change; my imagined future will have to evolve.  I can't imagine my future without Biggie in the dude posse, but I also picture him now with all my people who aren't here with me in the flesh.  I imagine him, my cousin Philip, my friend Daniel, and my grandparents eating Chinese food at the House of Szechwan in the sky.  My grandmother is gasping at their jokes, my grandpa Fred smirking.  

I have some regrets.  I know I have to let go of them.  I know they do me no good.  When my parents divorced, I mourned the loss of my family as I knew it.  I regret any day that I spent mourning that loss rather than appreciating my new family.  I regret that we didn't have Biggie in our wedding.  I regret we didn't roadtrip to Memphis together.  I regret I didn't tell him directly that I loved him, and considered him my family.  I hope that he knew that.  

I've been told this is the beginning of the "new normal".  I hate it.  I want to hug everyone tightly, and tell them how much I love them.  And to travel back in time, just a little over a week.