Back in 1996, I was a little 9 year old going on 10 years old. On a hot Saturday in August of that year my older brother was attacked outside my home. My older brother was 16 that year and this was during a period when the area of Brooklyn, New York that we lived in was rough and was known for a lot of criminal activity. My brother was stabbed that night over an argument about his bike. The attacker was joined by others because my brother was strong and they ended up overtaking him and leaving my brother for dead. He mustered the strength to get up and he came inside the house to lay bleeding on the kitchen floor.
As he lay there dying, my father, who had taken me and my younger brother out fishing earlier that day recieved the call that my brother was viciously stabbed and that an ambulance was on the way.
We all ran to the car to rush back home. When we arrived we got word that my brother was picked up by the ambulance. In the chaos of that night, I remember coming home and seeing my brothers blood everywhere leading to a pool of blood in the kitchen. The adults around me tried to shield my small eyes from the sight but it was no use. I was afraid my brother would die. At that moment I prayed the first real prayer I remember. At 9 years old I asked God to spare my brothers life. I was terrified. Not long after the prayer the adults came rushing back into the house hysterical because my brother was pronounced dead.
I walked around for maybe half a minute in total shock until I felt a wave of sadness overtake me.
I loved my older brother very much and despite the police cars, emergency personnel, family and neighbors, I felt alone and disillusioned that night. I went to bed saying to myself it was all a bad dream. I would wake up the next day and everything would be back to normal. My brother would be there alive and well and all this sadness would end.
The next morning I woke up and ran downstairs to see if the blood was gone and it was all a dream. When I landed downstairs It was all still there and I knew it was real.
Flash forward nearly twenty years later. I’m working as a real estate agent in New York. I get a phone call from owners who wants to put their house on the market. Turns out their house is on the same street my brother was killed all those years back. A street that holds so much pain and sadness for me. The owners weren’t living there twenty years ago and had no knowledge of the murder in 1996. I met up with them and decided to work on getting a family for their house.
Yesterday I completed their real estate deal, a new young family will now call it home, and even though I have done this type of deal a number of times I came back home and felt a surprising feeling. I felt as though it helped me. Twenty years later, to see people so happy moving onto a street that has changed for the better; a street that I had associated with trauma and pain. It means so much to me. It means that life goes on
Dedicated to my beloved older brother, Rest In Peace.