How long does it take to finish the mourning process? It's funny that I have never had to think about this. Most of the people I have lost, it was a normal mourning process. I grieved for a time and then slowly got back into the swing of things. This is much different. My brother is much different.
I find myself randomly remembering that I will never see him again. At least not until I pass away. For the sake of my husband and children, and well my sister as well, I hope that it is a long time away.
I was laying in bed last night and the thought came to me out of nowhere. I had him in my minds eye and I realized that I will never see him again. The text went through my mind again, "John Michael is dead." I have worked through this with my therapist slowly and it's still so fresh. I turned to Ken and said, "Why does my brain keep doing this to me? I know it's real but it's like my brain forgets and I have to remind it that he is gone. Why do I have to keep doing this stupid circle of grief? It's exhausting." Ken turned to me, "My Dad has been gone for years and I still pick up the phone on occasion to call him. I want to tell him something and then I realize I can't call him. It becomes a bit easier but it never goes away."
The devastation of that day, it is hard to explain. Your body does whatever it can to keep you from legitimately going insane. The stress of finding out, the traveling to family, the devastation on their faces, the looks of shock, the constantly hugging others to help them through it when all you want to do is hide in a cave. It's really hard y'all. The hardest thing that I have had to do to date.
I know it's like I'm beating a dead horse, but shit. I am doing everything in my power to move forward. One day I start to feel a little better and then something reminds me of him and I am right back at square one. My Aunt Mary posted something about how Grief is the price of Love. I loved my brother so much. No matter what a shithead he would be, I loved him.
When he married Ania, he wasn't talking to me. I was invited to the wedding but I wasn't in any of the pictures. Both Ania and John treated me like shit and wanted nothing to do with me. I spent the entire time wondering what I had done to deserve that treatment. To this day, I don't know. Most would have written their relative off. Fuck him, right? Not me. I still loved him with my whole being, through all the hurt. When Ania had her accident, my mom called me. I immediately asked for his number and texted him. Yes, I didn't have his number, he was mad at me, remember? I texted him that I would be wherever he was first thing in the morning and to text me the address.
He did. I drove up the following day and when I pulled into the parking lot, he was standing there smoking a cigarette. When I walked up he grabbed onto me like a lifeline and wept. I wept with him. The hurt was palpable (that one is for you, babe).
Did my brother and I always get along? No. Did that lessen the love I have for him? Not one bit. He was my little brother. I was his protector. I'm gonna miss him so much. I loved him. I still love him. I always will.
Ken is right Leilani. It never goes away, ever. The saying that time heals is false. Time just gives us a greater acceptance. The wound is healed but the scar is there forever. Everyone’s time of grief is different. Accept it, but don’t dwell in it. Don’t look for answers that won’t come. Whatever reason he had for not speaking to you, he had already forgiven you with that hug. It’s been three years since I lost my Dad. I carry a picture of him and I talk to him everyday. His picture helps me “see” him and yes the conversations are one way, but I believe he hears me. I still find it hard to speak of him without…