My brother was my best friend. He was my dude. This morning I woke up with a deep ache. I miss him. It’s been ten months since he passed on. Grief is an ornery little cuss. This workbook: “Processing Through Grief” has been helpful.
Today, I felt abandoned and even a little angry, because I am about to release a new book that my brother was a large part of.
During the process of writing I was traveling and talking with scientists I met through dear friends.
My brother was the one I shared this excitement with. He held my secrets like a trustworthy stead. He left before it was finished. I feel so sad. I wish he could hold this book in his hands, my first work of science fiction. We were so excited together.
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Because I was struggling emotionally, I decided to head into nature and see how many other abandoned things I could find. As I walked inside the trees letting some needed tears flow, I spotted these abandoned things.
I remember once in 2012, my brother, nephew and some of our friends were in Olympia, WA at Tugboat Annie’s. I was singing at an open mic night.
I looked over at the wall on the booth we were in as we waited for our turn to go up, and on the wall was a quote.
I am nobody. Nobody is perfect. Therefore I am perfect.
I have never forgotten that quote and how it stuck me. As I walked off the stinging in my throat, I embraced the truth that I have not been abandoned. My older brother is still here with me. I hear him in the smart ass way I say things and the hollow underbelly of my laughter.
I was so triggered the other day by a neighbor who wanted to talk. I said, “I’m really not up to it. I’m having a down day.” Her response, “Oh, get over it.”
Immediately I wanted to snap on her. Then this calm came over me, and I said,”Never speak to me that way again. My brother just passed in March.” She then tried to back peddle, said she was joking, I said, not funny and went on my way.
I’ve been civil because – neighbor – but it truly bothers me how people forget or don’t care what grief does to us.
My grief over the loss of my brother fired off a horrible inflammation flare in my physical body. I am now on month 5 of fighting it. We experienced a lot of trauma as children. Now I feel like a lone duck on an island of normal people who don’t understand why I am the way I am, not in the way my older brother did.
and I’m processing it as best as I can. It seems the more I am forced into situational normalcy, the more my body screams no.
My brother had a warlock energy. As teenagers we had D&D tournaments that would last for weeks. We talked for hours on the phone at least once or twice a week up to the week he passed.
He created such beautiful necklaces. He special made this one I’m wearing here.
The ache I feel missing him is extremely deep; sitting at the base of my spine, and it has me physically ill. 😢
I know time will heal this hole in my heart. I am processing the stages of grieving. I have relaxed into this slow pace. I cannot fight against this process.
So, I am flowing as best as I can, while focusing on self care, rest and nature feeding.
She jumped off a bridge into the middle of traffic in North Seattle this morning. She has lingered in my heart all day. I don’t know her name, what she looked like, if she had children or a husband, family, had ever felt love or had someone hug her.
And that makes me sad.
I see people in stores, brows furrowed in seeming anger, faces down trodden. I smile at strangers. Occasionally its reciprocated. Most times it’s met with a look of confusion.
We’re so disconnected our eyes no longer meet. We don’t share smiles.
I wonder how many people passed her today. I wonder if anyone smiled at her or met her eyes. I wonder if one person had, if she still would have walked to that bridge.
To the woman who left the planet today. I feel your human suffering. I know you’re being loved now.