My baby brother

I lost my baby brother Patrick Saturday morning, April 30, 2005. He fought cancer for ten excruciating months, and I honestly believed, until the last few days of his life, that he was going to win the fight.
I cannot describe my pain. I am the oldest of five and he is the youngest. My kids are grown, his kids still need him. In a symmetrical world, I would be the one who is gone and he would be here for his daughters' graduations and weddings and first babies.
The rest of my family has been better prepared for his death for a variety of reasons. They were there in Michigan and saw his battles at close hand. I only heard about them after the fact. They saw his pain. I heard him talk when he was pain free. They believed the doctors when they said he'd be dead in a year, and so have been in a kind of sotto voce continuous mourning throughout these past months. My mourning began on Saturday. They are together to comfort one another. I am here.
I know that is by choice. I know I chose not to go to Michigan during the last few days of his life. Bill and Barb both advised me to stay here and that is what I wanted to hear. I wanted permission to remember him the way he was when we spent our week together in March. He was very thin and frail, but still Patrick. Still strong, still sharp-witted, still good company and my good friend. I really, really loved him and I can't believe he is gone.
I can't seem to stop crying. During this whole ordeal, I don't think I cried more than a couple of times; I was operating under the idea that he was living with cancer, not dying from it. Even so, we had a couple of poignant moments where we both lost it for a bit. Not pity parties- there was no self-pity ever- but there was sadness and fear and regret, and we cried over them. And I cried over his pain.
Now my tears are entirely selfish. I want my baby brother back, alive and whole. And I would very much like to have Mike's arms around me, and Bill's shoulder to cry on, and Susie to mother me just a little. We will all be together for his memorial on May 15. All but Pat, of course. How can there only be four of us now?