Without a Twin
Six months ago my identical twin brother, Aaron Farmer, died of a massive heart attack. We were only 40.
It was a basic Wednesday morning filled with showering, teeth brushing and breakfast. As a high school math teacher, Aaron would need to leave by 6:30 a.m. in order to make it to the campus in time to start meeting with some of his students. However, by 6:15 a.m. he was dead.
I know it goes without saying that this day changed my life. September 28 now lives in with me forever like my Nancy Drew tattoo, only the tattoo is something I wanted. I’ve also found that I think of things in terms of Before Aaron and After Aaron. A before and after form of reasoning and recalling that has weirdly shaped remembrances and the future. Aaron and his partner, Bob, got their dog, Opie, four days BEFORE Aaron’s passing. Opie’s first vet appointment happened a week AFTER Aaron’s passing. It’s like two different recipe boxes, but instead of containing grandma’s top-secret formula for making red velvet cupcakes with real vanilla frostings, they are holding separate timelines.
This blog will serve as that recipe box, with each entry toggling between time, memories and our adventures. Much like Pulp Fiction did with storytelling (and I can’t believe I’m even thinking about Pulp Fiction while I write this), this blog will bounce around.
Have a great day,