Approaching my brother’s anniversary is always a weird time for me.
I tend to be more subdued and emotionally tender.
He died in a car accident when I was 9.
He was 18.
I’m currently 35.
I’ve lived more of my life without his physical presence and I’ve had internal breakdowns around that thought.
The memories slowly fade, feeling like smoke in my mind.
I’ve questioned the legitimacy of my grief and I’ve wrestled with it for a long time.
Desperately trying to make sense out of something that doesn’t warrant logical thought.
It’s not something that can be rationalized.
Only felt.
Then there’s the missing.
The perpetual ache of missing someone.
It’s a God-sized hole that lives inside of me.
An undercurrent of melancholia that always accompanies me.
It’s visceral.
I can feel it embedded in my body,
sometimes, more than others.
And usually more so around the anniversary.
There used to be a time where I’d ignore the anniversary.
I didn’t want to acknowledge it, I didn’t want to feel the loss, but deep down, it felt like a disservice.
Both to myself and to him.
I studied Death & Dying during my masters and that sparked something inside of me.
I no longer wanted to run from his death but instead, turn towards honoring it.
Honoring his life.
Honoring him.
Honoring what his death has taught and continues to teach me.
But with that, it meant opening myself up to the states of missing…of longing…of feeling the ache.
I’ve sat with the feeling of missing, again and again.
Asking myself how do I feel about missing?
What do I feel when I enter into the little portal of missing?
For me, missing is as though something in my heart is extending and reaching outwards for something.
To feel the “thing” it’s reaching out for.
It’s a bone deep ache that sits nestled in my chest, constantly reaching out, only to feel…not what it’s aching for.
It’s the recognition of empty space.
It can’t reach out to feel what it’s yearning for, but then what’s in its grasp,
what’s within reach, is sadness & grief.
Not the soothing feel of the person (or pet, or moment, etc).
It’s feeling something, technically, but not what it’s yearning and longing for.
I suppose part of the pain with missing is in the wanting to be soothed.
So then I’ve had to ask myself, can I reach out to the sadness and bring it in to be snuggled by my heart?
Letting my heart love it tenderly?
Maybe that’s a lesson of missing.
Instead of pushing it out and away, bringing it in.
Close.
To craddle and cuddle it in one’s heart.
🌹
🖤🖤🖤
My heart is with you 💜