It's been three weeks to the day that my family was forever changed and left numb when a phone call de-railed us from our normal, sometime mediocre, sometimes exciting, routine that we call life. There is nothing that can prepare you for this. No amount of prepping, pleading, deep-breathing, and pep-talks can place you in the position to take a blow of this enormity. There's a fog that you walk through for a while, and sadness swells to heights that nearly take you under. With just my head barely above water, treading to keep it there, every stage of grief, and some I haven't expected, come and go, only to reverse order and come barreling back.
I'm pushing on, after nights of endless tears where I think that there can't possibly be any left, dealing with logistics that death brings about, and spending a few days traveling to his favorite place, I can now say my temporary good-bye to my big brother. Spending the rest of my days here on earth asking why, being angry, being discouraged, being heartbroken, and feeling empty will not bring him back. But this I know. I loved him more than words can convey. And he loved me. I will forevermore wish that he knew how much I cared. How much my heart hurt for him and how I will always wonder if he knew how many people cared so deeply for him.
Death is always painful. But this is not a grief like others. It fills me with regret, guilt, and endless "what-if" pains. I know in my heart that this will subside, but my sadness at his inability to see God's peace, seek and accept help from his friends and family, and his utter despair, is by far, the most difficult piece to this horrid puzzle.
It is at this fork in the road that I have to choose what I will remember. So, here goes. And if you knew him, none of my favorite memories will surprise you. No one could make me laugh harder. My OTHER big brother and he actually tie in this category. Like the cry and stomach ache laugh. My kids adored him and they are blessed beyond measure by their uncles.
It's with this that I found this quote by Anna Quindlan that captures a love between a sister and a big brother:
"There is a little boy inside the man who is my brother…Oh, how I hated that little boy. And how I love him, too."
Please don't read into this that I hated my brother, but like most little sisters, sometimes big brothers torment them. And when you're five and your brother cuts your Barbie's hair off, there's some hate going on inside. When they hide from you, only to jump out to scare you and make you cry, you don't like them sometimes. When they shove you in a hide-a-bed couch, fold it up and leave you there, you kind of want to punch them. When he made home movies with all of his "big kid" friends and I begged to star in one, I ALWAYS died within the first 30 seconds of the movie. Hardly a blip on the big screen. I'm not even sure I was in the credits. He guffawed at the horrid reality that our pet cat, Yankee Doodle, tortured me without reason. And I still have nightmares of being chased by flapping arms that would "peck" at me, after watching Alfred Hitchcock's movie, The Birds. And why did I even watch that?? That's another blog.
So Paul, I publicly thank you for buying my son his first Whoopie Cushion. It's a rite of passage. Thank you for playing Santa's Trap Door with my girls. I can still hear them cackle with laughter. Thank you for making my world a better one, just by being in it. Thank you for introducing me to Billy Joel and Olivia Newton-John far earlier than you should have. You will be missed, cried over and laughed over. I pray that we did justice to your memory at Lincoln Park. So many of your friends were there to honor you. You made them laugh, too.
It's only right to end with an Eric Liddell quote, as we both adored Chariots of Fire.
"Circumstances may appear to wreck our lives and God's plans, but God is not helpless among the ruins."
I love you, big brother.
Death is always painful. But this is not a grief like others. It fills me with regret, guilt, and endless "what-if" pains. I know in my heart that this will subside, but my sadness at his inability to see God's peace, seek and accept help from his friends and family, and his utter despair, is by far, the most difficult piece to this horrid puzzle.
It is at this fork in the road that I have to choose what I will remember. So, here goes. And if you knew him, none of my favorite memories will surprise you. No one could make me laugh harder. My OTHER big brother and he actually tie in this category. Like the cry and stomach ache laugh. My kids adored him and they are blessed beyond measure by their uncles.
It's with this that I found this quote by Anna Quindlan that captures a love between a sister and a big brother:
"There is a little boy inside the man who is my brother…Oh, how I hated that little boy. And how I love him, too."
Please don't read into this that I hated my brother, but like most little sisters, sometimes big brothers torment them. And when you're five and your brother cuts your Barbie's hair off, there's some hate going on inside. When they hide from you, only to jump out to scare you and make you cry, you don't like them sometimes. When they shove you in a hide-a-bed couch, fold it up and leave you there, you kind of want to punch them. When he made home movies with all of his "big kid" friends and I begged to star in one, I ALWAYS died within the first 30 seconds of the movie. Hardly a blip on the big screen. I'm not even sure I was in the credits. He guffawed at the horrid reality that our pet cat, Yankee Doodle, tortured me without reason. And I still have nightmares of being chased by flapping arms that would "peck" at me, after watching Alfred Hitchcock's movie, The Birds. And why did I even watch that?? That's another blog.
So Paul, I publicly thank you for buying my son his first Whoopie Cushion. It's a rite of passage. Thank you for playing Santa's Trap Door with my girls. I can still hear them cackle with laughter. Thank you for making my world a better one, just by being in it. Thank you for introducing me to Billy Joel and Olivia Newton-John far earlier than you should have. You will be missed, cried over and laughed over. I pray that we did justice to your memory at Lincoln Park. So many of your friends were there to honor you. You made them laugh, too.
It's only right to end with an Eric Liddell quote, as we both adored Chariots of Fire.
"Circumstances may appear to wreck our lives and God's plans, but God is not helpless among the ruins."
I love you, big brother.
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