Like many who work through grief following the sudden death of a friend or family member, I've been plodding along numbly the last few weeks, following the passing of my "kid" brother, who was only 38.
While the wake and funeral are behind us, my family kept busy between our own lives and cleaning out his house, helping his ex-wife with the kids (he had joint custody), closing bank accounts, canceling credit cards, subscriptions, memberships and appointments, returning work property, paying his bills, and dozens of others little things that follows one in life.
Then there are the moments of silence...
And in those moments, you realize that all the plans you had with that person are no longer going to happen. Pinned to our bulletin board at home are season passes my husband and I purchased for the local amusement park so we could take my brother and his kids there this summer. There were also all the events we planned: the fireworks, the bar-b-ques, birthday parties, vacation, visiting an old abandoned rock quarry to find quartz, and many other plans...
I realized the same thing created a lump in my throat and tears following both my dad's death and the miscarriage of our only pregnancy a few years ago. They are all plans where my life was interwoven with another's -- and that thread was suddenly cut, leaving me to feel suddenly alone and disconnected.
We never know what the future holds. We don't know when our last moments with loved ones are. We don't know what will cancel the plans we make for our life. The only thing we can do is make the most of the present. That is the only thing we truly have in our hands.
The last time I saw my brother alive was a simple weekend visit - less than a week before. We laughed, we joked, we helped him with some work around his house, and we watched some movies while chowing down pizza. Not a major event in anyone's mind, but the last moments I interacted with him face-to-face.
I spoke with him not more than 40 minutes before; none of us had any indication it would be our last words. I called him with a quick question, we traded a few more words, and ended with a laugh and "talk to you later." Fifty minutes later, I received the call from my sister that he had a major stroke and was en route to the hospital. There was no "later" for more words.
I consider myself very blessed that the last visit - the last words - were with smiles and laughter. I recall many who lament that if they knew it would be the last, they would not have said the words they did, would not have fought, or yelled, or told someone they didn't have the time...
I am very blessed indeed. Even though what I planned for the future will never come to fruition, I had made the best of the present. And I now have good memories that will last forever. :)
Plan for the future.
Live in the present.
We never know.
- ESA
While the wake and funeral are behind us, my family kept busy between our own lives and cleaning out his house, helping his ex-wife with the kids (he had joint custody), closing bank accounts, canceling credit cards, subscriptions, memberships and appointments, returning work property, paying his bills, and dozens of others little things that follows one in life.
Then there are the moments of silence...
And in those moments, you realize that all the plans you had with that person are no longer going to happen. Pinned to our bulletin board at home are season passes my husband and I purchased for the local amusement park so we could take my brother and his kids there this summer. There were also all the events we planned: the fireworks, the bar-b-ques, birthday parties, vacation, visiting an old abandoned rock quarry to find quartz, and many other plans...
I realized the same thing created a lump in my throat and tears following both my dad's death and the miscarriage of our only pregnancy a few years ago. They are all plans where my life was interwoven with another's -- and that thread was suddenly cut, leaving me to feel suddenly alone and disconnected.
We never know what the future holds. We don't know when our last moments with loved ones are. We don't know what will cancel the plans we make for our life. The only thing we can do is make the most of the present. That is the only thing we truly have in our hands.
The last time I saw my brother alive was a simple weekend visit - less than a week before. We laughed, we joked, we helped him with some work around his house, and we watched some movies while chowing down pizza. Not a major event in anyone's mind, but the last moments I interacted with him face-to-face.
I spoke with him not more than 40 minutes before; none of us had any indication it would be our last words. I called him with a quick question, we traded a few more words, and ended with a laugh and "talk to you later." Fifty minutes later, I received the call from my sister that he had a major stroke and was en route to the hospital. There was no "later" for more words.
I consider myself very blessed that the last visit - the last words - were with smiles and laughter. I recall many who lament that if they knew it would be the last, they would not have said the words they did, would not have fought, or yelled, or told someone they didn't have the time...
I am very blessed indeed. Even though what I planned for the future will never come to fruition, I had made the best of the present. And I now have good memories that will last forever. :)
Plan for the future.
Live in the present.
We never know.
- ESA
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