It’s been twenty years since my brother Scott died. Twenty years. Which means my youngest son will be twenty this year. How did this happen? (For I am still a mere seventeen myself.)
I remember the day. It was a Saturday; my husband had two shows that day in Hollywood, and I had just been lazing around the house, being pregnant and happy and playing with my two year old. Until that afternoon, when my parents called.
I couldn’t believe it and yet it was utterly believable. The last time I had seen Scott, my heart had broken, and I will spare you the details. The time before that was in January, and we’d gone to lunch. Our conversation ranged over many topics and lunch, as I remember, took hours. I wish now I had recorded our conversation.
Anyway, the phone rang and my world shifted. It had happened to me before; the year I turned twenty, both my cousin Lori and a dear friend named Mark had died. Two separate, tragic instances separated my months and geography; both of which my parents had called to tell me about.
But those paled in comparison.
As Rosamund Pilcher said in her novel Coming Home, and I’m paraphrasing; Until you were told a loved one had died, they were there, living their lives, going about their business. It was the telling that killed. That last sentence has stayed with me. Haunted me, because it is true.
We knew his death was coming; it had been a long haul, three years of decline. Three years of giving our love, doing our best to banter the way we always did while hiding our shock at how thin he grew. Three years of feeling him slipping away. So by March we were taking it a day at a time.
Then I got the call.
In 1993, we had pagers. So in my grief, I paged my husband, who had to go on stage just then (in a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream), so he thrust the pager at his friend Paul, and said call her. Paul called me and I told him about Scott; Paul had been at our wedding, and he had met my brother. Paul was on one side of the stage when Tom looked at him – and from Paul’s expression, Tom knew.
I cannot do justice to Scott, for I am only a sister, one he fought with, laughed with, at times protected, and loved. But here are some places you can go to hear from people who knew him, probably better than I.
Donald Michael Kraig wrote this article on Scott. The Llewellyn Worldwide Publications site has his books listed, and they’re all on Amazon as well. And someone put up this video that Scott did on YouTube and while I normally wouldn’t do this, here’s a link. Because this is so totally Scott, lol.
And we can’t forget the Wikipedia site.
Two of the books I love:
The Magical Household by Scott Cunningham and David Harrington
and Whispers of the Moon by David Harrington and deTraci Regula,
which is the biography they did of him.
Though, seriously, all of his books show a side of Scott I only barely grazed as we were growing up. We shared an apartment for a little while; but through our childhood, we shared a bond that I feel will never be broken.
My older brother Greg and I miss him, and we cling perhaps tighter to each other with one of us gone, so long ago now.
The moon is full, Spring is here, and it’s been twenty years since Scott’s passing. But I like to think he’d still recognize me, even with my thinning hair and thickening body, for my smile is still as bright and my arms still hug tight. I shall go outside into the moonlight tonight, and pour some wine into the soil for him.
Hug those you love, for our time is short in this world. A last note: I know I’m not the only one who has lost a sibling/spouse/parent/friend/cousin. As Gregor Caine says, “We all have our dead.” May we honor those who have gone before us, and love and cherish those who are still with us.
~ Until the next time. ~
Demon Soul and Demon Hunt are all available for the Kindle and Kobo! Have you fallen into the Caine Brothers’ world yet?
You said: May we honor those who have gone before us, and love and cherish those who are still with us.
You did this beautifully, Christine. Thank you for this lovely blog in memorial to your brother, Scott.
Thank you, Lynne. I try not to blog every year about him, but – man. Twenty years is a long time.
Hugs back! Thinking of you, woman.
I remember reading Coming Home and those same words stuck with me. Such is the power of books. The loss of a loved one is something you never get over — you just learn new ways to honor them as you go on with your life without them. Sending love to you.
Sarah, I LOVE that book. To me, that is totally a romance…every step of the way. Sending love back!
What a loving tribute to the brother you lost too soon. Thanks for a touching reminder that the people in our lives are precious and our time with them limited.
Thanks, Sam. Hugs.
This is all so beautifully said, Christine. You have done such a nice job honoring your brother here today. I believe he still sees the things you do and he’ll love the wine you share with him in the moonlight. Hugs.
Thanks, Debra. Looking forward to seeing you tonight. Hugs!
I can’t believe it’s been 20 years. Your brother’s work had (and still has) a huge impact on my life. Blessings to you, your memories, and your own writing.
Ah Devon. I knew we were kindred spirits! Blessings to you, and thank you for stopping by.
I struggled just a bit about what to post, but I couldn’t just close the browser and go on with my day without mentioning this to you.
Your brother’s books are very beloved by my cousin. He recommends them to anyone interested in learning more about Wicca and feels that they are the best books on the subject that anyone could read. (My son read Earth Power and really enjoyed it.)
I’m sure the above is something that you’ve heard many times, but I just wanted to share with you that your brother’s work still lives on in the people who have read his books. While his body may have died, his message lives on.
PJ, he was one of the most giving-est people I’ve ever known. His books are his way of giving back to the world, don’t you think? Hugs honey.
I’ll confirm that you do give the best hugs – ever. A lovely and loving tribute to a brother. I remember I had a client, another lifetime ago, who told me to always remember to love my siblings and to hold them close because they are the people who knew us when and who know us in ways that no one, not even our parents, know us. Here’s to siblings, those still with us and those we lost way to soon.
I miss you, Maria, lol! Hugs!
What a touching tribute to your brother. It’s my belief that he is with you and your family and knows how much you miss him.
Thanks, Kathy. I sure hope so.
May he rest in peace and in the warmth of your heart. Hugs.
Thanks, Kara. Hugs back, hon!
One is not truly gone as long as there is someone alive who knew him. It takes a brave soul to tell the world their innermost thoughts. Your brother would be proud.
Or he’d be rolling his eyes, Pat. Or making really bad puns…lol…thanks for stopping by, hon!
A beautiful tribute to a wonderful man. Ah, we do all have our dead.
Louann, unfortunately as we grow older, we lose more people. Hugs honey!
You said you couldn’t do him justice, being “only a sister” but you did. Beautiful piece about your brother. It is clear how much he was loved.
Thanks, Shawna. It’s always hard, though. Hugs!
Lovely tribute to your brother.Got me intrigued so now I have ordered one of his books.Hope I’ll be allowed to read it but my cats always lie on top of any new books or textiles that are introduced into my home. Still. a shrimp or two will probably do the trick!
Welcome, and thank you! Good luck with the cats – my cat is supremely uninterested in shrimp. Tuna juice, now, he’ll go for, lol!
Just came across this post and wanted to share that I’ve had your brother’s books on my keeper shelf for twenty years. He was a wonderful teacher to this wicca-curious girl. Thank you for sharing your memories.
Welcome, Raven, thanks so much for stopping by. Hugs!