For those of you who might not remember, or don’t know, my oldest brother passed away last August after a 9 month battle with cancer.
Shortly after he passed, me and the kids moved half way across the country to be closer to Russ while he was attending some training for his job. Then, a month later when he graduated from that school, we moved back to Utah. The next several weeks were a struggle and a commotion – we were trying to get into our house, get Russ a job, get financing arranged for the house, and the list goes on. Then Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the new year hit, and I didn’t have two seconds to sit down and really process everything.
Russ left for some more job training a few weeks ago, and as I got into a rhythm with the kids, all the grief hit me.
It happened on Sunday at Stake Conference as a sweet lady behind us held Joseline, Vincente colored quietly, and I was alone with my thoughts for the first time in months. I wanted to cry and cry and cry, but sobbing loudly in the middle of Stake Conference would probably not be appropriate, so I tried to contain it, and managed with only a few tears. On Monday, I was so depressed I could barely move. I didn’t want to do anything but sit and cry – but I knew that I couldn’t cry in front of the kids – not the way I needed to – and I didn’t really want to be crying alone. So I held it in.
On Tuesday we went to spend the night at my in-laws house. It was actually perfect. I was still kind of in a funk the whole time, but my mother in law and little brothers took care of the kids, loved on them, kissed their boo boos, and fed them while I just kind of stewed. Then on Tuesday night, after everyone was in bed, I decided to write a little in my journal. I was able to work through a lot of my grief – writing in my journal is usually very therapeutic for me, and this time was no exception. I won’t share with you everything that I wrote, but I think that one of the things that I ache for the most is the relationship that I might have been able to have with my brother if he was still alive.
Well, Wednesday morning and afternoon I was still in a bit of a funk, but by the evening, I was feeling better, and last night I went to bed for the first time in months without feeling as if I wouldn’t really care if I didn’t wake up the next morning. I was ready for the next day last night when my head hit the pillow – even though I was going to bed late (after midnight). My husband, and maybe other people who know me, know that without a full 8 hours of sleep, I’m pretty grouchy in the morning and don’t want to get out of bed. But even with a late night (and a lonely one at that!) I was still anxious to get up with my alarm clock and start the morning off right!
Then yesterday there was some sunshine, and today has been sunny all day long – that probably has a lot to do with it as well. But I feel renewed, now that I got a lot of that grief out.
It’s not all over – the healing is not done – but it has finally started, after nearly 5 months. And it will continue until I see my brother again after this life. But at least I’m not standing still, knee deep in sorrow. Sure, I’m still knee deep in it – but I’m walking toward dry land. I can see it off there in the distance and I know that if I just keep moving (talking about him and the hurt inside) I will get to that dry land, and he’ll be there, and I might get a second chance with him.
No one can really understand your pain Rebecca, but I am quite impressed with the way you are handling it. I know sometimes we have to put our needs on the back burners as we fulfill the duties of a mother. Good for you for taking time for yourself!
ReplyDeleteI really enjoy reading your blog. I often can see the same things happening in my life or those around me. I often think of the words to As sisters in Zion....we ARE all in this together. Thanks for your inspirations!
It's funny how grief is because I'm pretty convinced that it hits everyone at different times in different ways. I'm not really sure when my mother's grief hit her, but I know that she didn't even cry for the first time until awhile after the funeral. I think that's because she was trying so hard to help me deal with it all. Grief is a heavy, heavy burden, especially when you have a TON of other stuff going on at the same time (my grandmother had died a week before Phillip and Steven had left for basic training three days before Phillip died) and it's really hard when you have those days when you don't even feel like getting out of bed. Especially when you have two small children to take care of and your husband can't be around to support you. I commend you greatly for your strength. That's something we have in common: we're strong women who were raised by strong mothers. And I'm so glad to hear that you're doing better. Just know that if you ever want to talk, you can call or text me any time and if I don't answer right away, I will get back to you as soon as I can. My cell is 501-837-8756 (I don't remember if you had it or not). I mean it, Becca. You're one of my oldest friends and I want to hear how you're doing. By the way, I love the way you write. I'm a writing major, so a lot of the classes I take are about analyzing different types of writing. And I just really like the way you write. Have a great day!
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