Museum

My Moments and Meaning friends, below are some words about my brother Elliot. I miss his knowing smile, his quick humor, and his ability to understand me without need for explanation. With each passing moment I miss him more and my heart breaks wider, but I will continue to write about and remember him.

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When we were little, my brother Elliot and I invented a game we called “Museum.”

Only two rules existed for Museum. The first: we only used pillows and blankets. The second: we only played together. 

The game involved Elliot and me gathering all of the pillows and blankets in our home, and spreading them on the ground beside our parents’ bed. Elliot and I would collapse into the pile when the wooden floorboards were no longer visible. We’d stand, fall, and leap. I remember how we rolled around and enveloped ourselves completely.

I’m telling you this story because our childhood together was marked by this precise sense of warmth and comfort. 

My brother, as a kid, was playful above all. He was joyful and energetic, a lover of steak, lobster, pepperoni, Nike Elite shorts, and basketball. As a teenager and later as an adult, he was relentless about sneakers, fireworks, rap music, stocks, nutrition, weightlifting, and colognes. Elliot was an attentive listener, an analytical mind, and intentional with his words. When he played with our dog (named Dawg by him and our dad), he seemed to become the Elliot I’d known as a kid.

The hole that has been left in my life and in that of my parents is indescribable. I can see Elliot clearly in the kitchen making eggs in the morning, leaning on my dad’s shoulder as they hugged, and asking me if I want to watch a show together after dinner. It is the honor of my life to walk alongside Elliot–in this moment and all others– as his sister.

I believe with certainty that my brother has found a place as soft and as peaceful as the one we created with Museum. That he has finally found this quiet brings me great comfort. I hope it might do the same for you all.