It would seem with the loss of my brother, dad, and
grandparents that I would be well versed in the grieving process and how to
comfort those who are hurting. However, I
have learned more about grieving in the last four months than I have in the
last 36 years. Watching my sister-in-law
and brother-in-law grieve the loss of their son, my nephew, Dylan, has made me realize
how consuming grief is on the body, the mind and the spirit.
Tomorrow, April 17, marks the 8th anniversary of
my brother’s death. As I look back over
the funeral and months that followed, I realize that I failed as daughter to
help my mother through the worst days of her life. I didn’t recognize how deep her grief
was. You ask yourself “how couldn’t I see
it or know it”? By the very nature of
the fact that my mom buried a child I should have known. Maybe I didn’t realize it because I was grieving. Maybe it was because there was a sense of
relief that his fight in life was over, or maybe it was because we didn’t share
the pain of the loss as a family. Yes,
we gathered and planned his funeral, we cried together at the services, and we
shared a meal at my mom’s house after the funeral. But we rarely spoke of it afterwards. I, in my selfish, naive state didn’t call my
mom to check on her daily like I should have.
When I saw her she was pulled together and able to carry on normal
conversations. Perhaps this led me to
believe that she was doing well. Or
maybe the truth is it hurt me to see her hurting so I avoided the hard
conversations. Or perhaps, I wanted to
distract her from the hurt so I kept quiet in the hopes that if we talked about
something different her mind and heart would have a moment to heal and think
about something different. Whatever the reason
may be, I now realize that I handled it wrong.
I look back, with the knowledge I have today, and I am overwhelmed with
guilt and sadness that I wasn’t there for my mom the way a daughter should
be. Like I said, I have learned a lot about grief
in the last four months and if I could do it again, while I wouldn’t want to
relive those days again, I would do it very differently.
As I remember my brother tomorrow, I wont go visit his
grave, because I don’t visit cemeteries.
Bodies may be laid to rest there, but memories, love and the bonds
people create are not found in a cemeteries.
I carry my brother with me in my heart and mind. I dont say this to offend those that visit
graveyards; we all have our own way of grieving and showing our love. My dad died when I was 12 and his body was
laid to rest in Iowa, as were his parents but I was in Indiana. Therefore, I didn’t grow up visiting cemeteries.
One of the main things I have learned about grieving is that
those who have “lost” someone they love don’t want them to be forgotten. They want you to share your memories, or if
you see something that reminds you of them, say it out loud. Yes it may cause a moment or two of sadness as
they quietly reminisce or talk, but the pain of your silence is worse. So this blog, I dedicate to my mom. I hope she knows each day I look at the
picture of Brian and remember who he was and miss him. He isn’t forgotten. His life had value and impacted many.
This is how I remember my brother, Brian:
My brother was one of the funniest guys I knew. His sense of humor, to some, may have seemed
immature but to me it was a carefree and silly humor. I remember our last day together. It was Easter Sunday, and we were at my mom’s
house. Brian brought Logan over and the
kids had an egg hunt. I remember sitting
in the kitchen with my mom and brother and we laughed and laughed together. I am forever grateful that our last day
together was fun and relaxing.
When my brother and I were younger we were great
friends. We played GI Joe, tag, and Legos
together. Brian was my first
friend. We didn’t always get along but I
knew he had my back.
Brian was an amazing artist.
His ability to draw anything he saw amazed me. I cant draw a stick figure, so to watch him
effortlessly draw portraits, etc. astounded me. I wish I would have saved some of his
drawings. Brian also loved music. I remember him playing his drums for
hours. He would have loved to have
played in a band.
Brian gave me away at my wedding. I remember being so nervous when I asked him
and so excited when he said he would do it.
While Brian was not always kind to me after my dad’s death, I knew when
push came to shove, he was my defender.
He would have protected me from anyone that treated me unkind. I remember at the reception Brian and Heath
dancing to Cotton I Joe around the hog trough.
To this day it is one of the funniest things I have ever seen. Not because they couldn’t dance, but because
they were having fun. Their dancing was
pure entertainment.
As a kid I remember going sledding with my brother. There was a hill behind our neighbor’s house
and we would walk to it together. I probably
would’ve been too scared to go down the hill if my brother wasn’t by my
side. More than anything I wanted Brian
to think I was cool and brave.
For those that only knew Brian when he was drunk or high
missed out on knowing a guy that was filled with love, who was smart,
compassionate, funny, loyal and gifted.
While I am thankful that Brian no longer has to fight his addictions and
the pain of this world, I mourn the guy who I once called friend, protector,
and brother. On Thursday I will grieve
not only for my loss but also for the loss my mom, his wife, and his
children. I will grieve what was, what
should be and what could’ve been.
Rest in peace Brian.
We love you and miss you. Until
we are together again…
The Four of Us
My First Friend
Sharing a Dance with my Brother
Our Small Family
Brian's Family: Kristi, Courtney and Logan (not pictured, Katie)
Celebrating Christmas
The Last Picture Taken of Brian (during the egg hunt)
One of my Favorite Pictures of Brian
