Did anyone see that article about the dog who laid down at the foot of his owners casket?? His owner was one of the navy seals killed earlier this month in Afghanistan.
Here is the link: http://networkedblogs.com/mbx9j?ref=nf
I read that article yesterday. Which can I just say yesterday was a really hard day for me anyway?? Some days I can be overly emotional. I still daily with depression (that isn't medicated because I'm knocked up) as a result of death of my brothers. If you know me, you know the stories. You know that Tony was my younger brother, but I called him my twin we were so attached in every way. You know that Paul was born to my Aunt, but we were raised under the same roof and regarded each other as brother and sister. Their deaths have been very instrumental in defining who I've become as a person the last few years. It has been 5 years since losing Tony, and 3 since losing Paul. And both are still so raw and fresh for me.
I cannot imagine how my mom and aunt feel. I try to be sympathetic. Especially now that I am a parent. But I don't know how I'd survive losing my children.
Back to my original train of thought; yesterday I was feeling really broken and twisted up inside when I got up for the day. It felt like nothing was going right, it felt like my kids were deliberately trying to frustrate me. They were more wound up then usual. They were very unkind to me and to each other, and by the time Carl got home from work, I was a hot mess. I had a horrible headache, and I just needed to sleep to let it go. During my crazy long frustrating day, I read the article about that dog, Hawkeye. And I spent hours crying over the death of someone I don't even know. I read the comments people posted on the article, and I cried and cried and cried. And I cried for that dog. I cried for his grief and his loneliness. I cried for Jon's family. I cried for my own losses. I cried for the incredibly sad comments some people posted on the article. I had to walk away and sit alone and just cry. Yesterday, my own grief was in every action I committed myself to.
The funny thing about grief is it's different for everyone. No two people process things the same way. Over time It will continue to feel less sharp, but that doesn't mean you're not allowed to feel sad sometimes. I would say that I'm still continuously grieving the loss of my two greatest friends, of my brothers. I do my best to put on a brave face and let my life continue to bloom and grow- because I know who they were, and I know how important it is to them that I always LIVE. I refuse to be a shell. I have learned how to cope, even if to some people I wouldn't be doing it correctly, it works for me. I've learned that it is OK to feel sad some days. That it is OK to laugh and love again. That it is OK to be sad that my children will never know their uncles, except from stories and pictures. Every day my heart breaks over this. Every time I see a picture of Paul holding Kate I die a little bit. He came to see her the week she was born, and he was so in love. And he had such big plans for her as she grew up. He died when she was 6 months old. She'll never know the love her uncle, who was absolutely devoted to being a significant part of her life. Before she was born, he would just gush over how much he already loved her, and he cried when he heard her crying for the first time after I had her, before he flew into Seattle. He held her every second he was near her. He would sleep with her on the couch, and some of those memories are the most pivotal of my life. They are the last ones I have with him. He was my rock, and losing him.. I won't say it was harder then losing Tony, but it definitely rocked me to my entire core. I think I may have fainted with Kate in my arms when my dad told me he died. I was not expecting it, those days are such a blur of sorrow and frustration. Being stuck here, while his body was in FL. I never want to live through something like that again.
When you love someone, and you lose them, it is okay to hurt and to be sad, and to feel left behind and alone. And if anyone tells you to get over it, to move on; you tell them that unless they've been in your shoes, they'll never be able to comprehend the absolute power of your own grief. It does not make you weak to cry every day for what you've lost, but don't forget to laugh and love and enjoy what you still have. That's how I get up everyday, even when it's still so hard. I look at what I have, and that still includes the absolute love I know my brothers had for me. I'll never let that go.
