Journal of a Sabbatical

July 11, 2000

RIP William James Egan

My brother Billy died last week. No warning. No long illness. Just suddenly Billy is not there. He was 43. Not exactly old. Not even really middle-aged. 43 is too young for a heart attack in your sleep.

I can't get used to the idea that Billy isn't with us anymore. We won't hear his trademark laugh anymore. We won't hear his definitive opinions anymore. We won't get into arguments just for the sake of the debate anymore. It is a different, more impoverished world without Billy in it.

The first personal thing people usually find out about me is that I have five brothers. My brothers, all 5, have always been a tight knit unit with private brotherly jokes that I've never been privy to. They're all younger than me. I'm supposed to be the big sister who keeps an eye on them and doesn't let anything bad happen to them. Now that tight fabric has been ripped apart and it will never be the same.