To be honest, I’ve been crabby lately. Existence has not been happening as smoothly as it usually does. There have been bumps and sudden bouts of sobbing in inconvenient places. I’ve needed a lot of hugs and more quiet time than I’ve gotten.
This is mostly – but not solely – due to losing my youngest brother at the age of 33 from a fucking untreated bump on the head from a falling, fairly lightweight mirror.
See? The anger crops up. It typically comes hand-in-hand with shock.
They say after you lose someone unexpectedly, you need to adapt to the “new normal”. I’ve heard this phrase a lot since April 26. And, indeed, there is a weird transitioning that has been happening entirely against my will, shaking me up.
I’m currently losing more than just a brother. Maybe it would be easier if that was my only challenge. Maybe not, and this is the universe’s way of keeping me preoccupied so the grief doesn’t win.
I’m losing the vacation/mountain house my family has had since my oldest was a baby, a place with many memories soaked into the rooms and air, which my parents began trying to sell a year ago, but only found a buyer for almost immediately before my brother died. I’m losing my long-time best friend at work, who’s leaving this month on a possibly permanent maternity leave. I’m losing a lot of furniture, including my insanely comfortable (but small) bed. I’m losing my car, which I’ve also had since my oldest was a baby.
It feels like many things at once are slipping through my fingers, and I have no way to hold on.
Then I see my brother’s smiling face before me, or hear an echo of his exuberant laugh, and remember something he knew well – that there are bright sides to every misfortune.
I’m currently gaining a better relationship and closeness with my only remaining, living brother – something I’d secretly yearned for my whole life, with no real hope of ever getting it. You see, my brothers were always too close to let me in. Now the space that’s been left is agonizingly painful, so we’re trying to gather nearer to shrink it down to a manageable size.
I may be gaining a beach house if my parents (maybe? hopefully?) buy one of the ones they’ve been looking at. Because my friend at work is leaving, I’m being promoted even though I’m a part-time (but hard) worker. I’m gaining new furniture (and a bigger bed!) as my parents empty out the recently-sold mountain house. I’m gaining a new car for the first time in 11 years.
The sentimentality is what’s been getting me. I don’t want to let it all go. I’d do anything to keep things the way they were. Anything.
I’m still trying to figure out where my writing fits in with all of this. Some days, it’s only being able to write new chapters in new stories that gets me through a shitty day. Other days, it’s all I can do to show up at my day job, take care of my kids, and not fall apart. There is a lot in the pipeline. New stories are racing to the finish, whether I’m ready or not. My dear friends and readers, if I stumble and fail to keep up, all I can ask is for your patience and understanding that the ground isn’t quite steady under my feet yet.
We buried my brother’s ashes this past Friday morning. It was bright and beautiful. The core of my extended family gathered around his grave and got sunburned as we shared feelings, memories and poems.
This is the poem I read, which I feel is what my beloved brother would tell us now, if he could:
Death Is Nothing At All by Henry Scott-Holland
Death is nothing at all
I have only slipped away into the next room
I am I and you are you
Whatever we were to each other
That we are still
Call me by my old familiar name
Speak to me in the easy way you always used
Put no difference into your tone
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow
Laugh as we always laughed
At the little jokes we always enjoyed together
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was
Let it be spoken without effort
Without the ghost of a shadow in it
Life means all that it ever meant
It is the same as it ever was
There is absolute unbroken continuity
What is death but a negligible accident?
Why should I be out of mind
Because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you for an interval
Somewhere very near
Just around the corner
All is well.
Nothing is past; nothing is lost
One brief moment and all will be as it was before
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!
Dearest Lynn ,
The last thing we like to hear when we go through such traumatic times and horrific losses is “I know just how you are feeling.” The truth is, no we don’t . I have suffered through many losses of loved ones, and a fair portion of them were tragic deaths, including my brothers murder when he was just 18. I will only say I have an idea of the emotions, the ups and downs, from day to day. I too like things to stay the same. With change comes better understanding of ourselves and growth. They say we are never given more than we can handle , but some days I beg to differ. My only wish and hope for you is that you don’t expect to much from yourself and ask for the things you need to get you through. A hug, a long talk from a close friend, or just a quiet moment with yourself. Try to accept the changes and give yourself credit, because just when you feel the weakest it is usually when you are the strongest!!! It is a new and different chapter in your life, granted not one you would have written for yourself, but one that was pre-written by someone else. I hope you find strength and good from the changes happening in and around your life. Love,hugs and best wishes that each day gets brighter and better.
Hi Jan,
Thank you for sharing your experiences. I’m so sorry to hear of your losses as well, though I’ve found it’s opening up about these difficult parts of our lives that helps the most with healing. Your words and wisdom really moved me. I feel there’s a lot of truth in what you’ve said and can only hope the more time that passes, the stronger I’m able to be and the more all of this will make sense. I truly appreciate the support and love. Big hugs to you.
Wishing you all the best with much love and gratitude,
Lynn
Grief hits us all in different ways and at different times. My brother Stephen died unexpectedly at age 36 on the 4th of July in 2013 in my parents’ home, and the loss and grief still make themselves known at the strangest times. My parents sold my childhood home less than a year later because they couldn’t stay there anymore. No one can understand precisely how you feel as we all experience loss and change differently. Take all the time you need to adjust to that new normal and all the changes. And know that the fans of your writing aren’t going anywhere. If it’s six months between books or six years, we’ll still be here. Sending many positive thoughts your way.
Hi Libby,
I’m so sorry for your loss, and so recently, too. I can imagine you and your family are still very much in the process of dealing with Stephen’s absence. I really appreciate you taking the time to leave a message and share what you’ve been going through. Hearing from others who have endured similar kinds of grief has been strangely comforting, realizing things might not make sense just yet, but at least I’m not alone in what I’m struggling with. Hugs and much love to you and yours.