Brief Hiatus

I am so sorry that I have been on hiatus for nearly a month.  My counselor suggested I experiment with taking a break from some of the blogs I was reading and following, to take a break from the melanoma website I keep up with and to take a break from just getting myself too involved in other illnesses and deaths that seem to mirror my own loss, subsequently making me relive it over and over.  Her suggestion was to try it, and if I feel better, then I will know it was the right thing, and if not, then I will know it is a need still in my life.

I think it helped.  It was suggested to me by more than one commenter on my own blog.  Illness and death became my life for so long, and it is hard to keep from being obsessed with it.  I know this probably sounds terrible, but in all honesty, sometimes seeing other illness and death, some sudden, some prolonged...it somehow makes me feel normal.

You see, I have come to realize that the me that existed before Brian graced my life is gone.  Long gone.  I spend my days trying to find myself again.  So much of me has changed for the better because of his existence.  And I find it difficult not to continually imagine how my life would be so different if it weren't for this evil we call cancer.  I am working so hard to keep melanoma from destroying me in the wake of killing my husband.  I remind myself that while melanoma did rob Brian of so much, while it did just whittle away at his body, it did not and never will define him.

So why now, do I feel as if it is defining me?  Why now do I struggle so much to keep melanoma from breaking me?  I was also robbed of so much, and the effects of melanoma contiue to whittle away at my heart and soul.  It is a daily...no...hourly, if not even more often...a struggle I fight.

I am not going to get over this.  Anyone who has loved and lost knows how I feel.  The rest of you could never imagine, and for that I am thankful.  While you may not understand my grief, it is real, and it is forever.

I have found in my own journey of grief that the sadness lingers like an unwelcome guest.  So often, it is shut out purposefully by me, in an attempt to find some peace.  Often, it is drowned out by the laughter and smiles of my children, or stomped out by the busyness and demands of my life.  Those are the days that I can take a step forward, the days that are not as difficult to get out of bed as they used to be.  Those are the days in which a thought or memory brings smiles and warms my heart.

But other days do still exist.  I imagine they always will.  God help me if I die and no one grieves my loss.  For so many, the grief of Brian is healed, smoothed over by good memories, pushed back because grief is too hard to deal with and easier to forget.  For me, he was my life.

Brian and Jenni and Rachel and Amberlea and Tye.

All of us.

And without him, I am lost.  I am lonely.  I am sad. 

Days like today are particularly tough.  I have some important decisions to make about myself and my children, and the loneliness weighs heavily on me.  I miss the small things almost as much as anything.

Daddy driving kids around on Halloween.

Daddy cleaning up the yard.

Daddy playing football with Tye.

Daddy carving pumpkins.

Daddy kissing Mommy.

Daddy.

Daddy.

Daddy.

Why today, I'm unsure, other than I have found that sharing in God's beauty of a day like today makes me feel close to God.  And if you know me well, you know that I have felt anything but close to God over the last few years.  From the moment in the emergency room when I realized my own mother was dead, God Himself has seemed at a distance.  I have felt abandoned.  I have felt lost.  I have felt betrayed.  I have worked beyond all energy to restore my relationship with Him, and I am so thankful that He is patient with me.  I am thankful that God understands my pain, and is willing to let me be really angry.  I am thankful that He has stood by me while I question so much about the meaning of life and love and loss.

And what I have found is that when I feel close to God, in turn I seem to feel close to Brian and my mom.  It is not a coincidence that I have suddenly noticed the different colors of autumn, or the sounds of nature, or the smell of rain.  I laugh to myself because my mom always noticed those things.  She always always took the time to stop and smell the roses, literally.  She pointed out the beauty and curiosities of the world, and I overlooked them so easily.

On the night of Brian's death, Amberlea slept in our bed.  I spent all night just trying to absorb the happenings of the past few hours, the past few months, the past few years.  The blinds of my bedroom were wide open, and when I finally slipped into bed after 5 a.m., I could see the sky.  And I felt close to Brian, as if I was seeing the same Heaven he was now enjoying.  When I woke, the sun was just coming up, and I wondered what the sun looked like from Brian's view.  I think it was the first time I really took in a sunrise in all its glory.

And I have done so everyday since then.  Many nights I watch the stars.  I have grown to love the view of the moon, again wondering how majestic it is from Heaven.  And I have started seeing God in a different perspective.  He is everywhere, and I am working to let Him just surround me and bring me peace.  Feeling closer to God makes me feel close to Brian and my mom.

But it also makes me miss them even more.  I want my life back, and I keep having to remind myself that it is gone, the life as I knew it...and what is left is the life I am trying to live now.  It can all be so very overwhelming at times, and I think it will seriously always be a work in progress.  Each days ticks off another day without them, and the further into time I go, the longer it has been since I saw them.

So when the sadness comes, it is pretty intense.  It feels like a weight on my chest, a fuzz in my head.  The tears and pain seem almost worse because it has built up longer.  So while I am thankful for more good days than bad, the bad seem pretty bad.

One day at a time.  That is all I can do.  That has worked for so many months, and it is what allows me to continue to function.  I can hardly believe the holidays are approaching so fast, and I am trying to gear up to face these special family moments without Brian, without my mom.  I don't see how I can really ever get used to this.