I thought about titling this blog “The Year that Didn’t Happen,” because, well…it didn’t–at least not as it was supposed to.  I was going to be juggling a job, a newly burgeoning film career, being a husband, and being a father to not one, but two boys.  But a year ago today I held my second son for the first, and last time.  I remember it as if it were yesterday.

Like all babies, he was lighter than he looked.  But this one…Isaac looked like me.  It was nice to see.  I love T3, but he certainly looks more like a Cooper than he does a Brown.  Isaac had my nose, which up until his mid-fifties would have been a good thing.  (It goes downhill from there.)

I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not okay, and that that’s all right.  I don’t know if I’ll ever be “OK.”  I have an Isaac shaped hole in my heart that couldn’t possibly be filled.  But I don’t want that.

I still laugh.  I still dream.  And if you ask Isaac’s older brother what the meaning of life is, he will answer loud and clear: “Bacon!”  I’ve done well.

But Isaac, I miss you, boy.  And I always will.

Not many people ask me how I’m doing.  This, I believe, is mainly due to the fact that, as a Gemini, I’m quite good at keeping my cards hidden.  And I don’t take offense to it.  I’m usually more concerned about what is going on in others lives than to worry them with my own.  I am fine.  Just a little more sad than usual.

I’ve started (again) to write a novel.  I don’t have much written but the first page says the following:

To my boys, Thomas D. Brown III and Isaac Joel Brown.

I don’t know when exactly you became my compass on this adventure, but I can’t imagine life without you.  And so I dedicate this adventure to you.  

Love,
Your Father

Maybe I should have titled the blog “Meandering with Isaac.”  #LOL

You have never stopped being an inspiration my boy, and though the idea of waiting any longer to hold you again tears me apart, I’ll do us all a favor, and keep on kickin’ until I’m old and gray.  (Don’t tell anyone, but I’m starting to go gray already.)

Cheers.

Dad

PS: Your headstone / marker thing is pretty nice.  I liked that it had a tree on it.  A bringer of life. -T2

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3 thoughts on “09.08.2016

  1. So beautiful Tom. And funny. Yep…so very you. Tears are streaming down my face as I write this. Thank you for sharing your fragile, Father’s heart. Never stop sharing your story. We love you and April and that sweet getting-too-big T3 so much. And although we never got to meet him, I know we would’ve been instantly in love with Isaac too.

  2. I love you all. You haven’t been forgotten. When does one have have the right words, the right timing, or the right reach. We walk alongside you and know that everyone grieves differently and in their own way. and at their own pace. The picture of the tree reminds me of the trees my dad planted for each of his 4 kids. By far the one that was the most useful, the most productive, the best tasting, and the best smelling was the lemon tree warming in the sun. IThat one was for my only brother who I never got to meet. He died prematurely just before he was due. I was his big sister. It is evident that your sons are very much loved. They are rooted in love and in your heart. Love you all.

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