Another blank screen with a blinking cursor. I type something just to fill the space. There isn't anything of great significance to say...nothing I haven't already said. And what could I possibly say anyway that is of any importance at all? I'm not that wise. None of us are. I've had a really hard time lately getting my thoughts down in print. There are currently over 40 drafts in my account right now. All on different subjects, all equally incomplete, all too "meh" to finish. Maybe I'm too much of a perfectionist in that respect. Maybe I feel like I need to post something profound or not post anything at all. I don't know...but it bugs me. I want to blog again and right now I sort of feel stuck.
Today has been a weird day. It's Matt's angelversary and so he's been on my mind today moreso than most days. Even so, I've had true moments of happiness as well. Moments when I caught myself not even thinking about it being Matt's angelversary...and then feeling guilty for forgetting. Is that what happens after 4 years? You forget?? I could NEVER forget my brother. NEVER! So, what happened? I don't know. Life, I guess? Matt wouldn't want his death and consequently my mourning to consume the rest of my life. I know that. But shouldn't I spend ALL of today at least thinking about him? I've cried today. I'm crying now. Earlier my dear autistic son said to me, "Mommy, please don't cry. It hurts me." I was so touched by his comment and it occurred to me that grief doesn't just hurt the mourner. It hurts those we love to see us mourning. At least, I know I hurt when someone I love is hurting, whether it be emotional or physical pain. I hate it. It's awful.
Grief will make you do crazy things. Did you know that we have a hide-a-bed loveseat that is on its last leg...seriously looks like a dog got a hold of it and ripped the fabric off, chunks of padding are missing from the arms and the cushion has been ripped and re-sewn twice and needs a third treatment? I don't want to get rid of it. Why? Because Matt slept on it. Our recliner is losing upholstery at the seat and the padding underneath is peeking out at the crease between the seat and the back...but Matt sat in it. Our dining table is one we had growing up. It has scratches but we had meals together there as teens. It's just furniture, right? I can't take it with me and having it here isn't going to bring him back, right? But maybe having them around makes him feel that much closer. Maybe I like the reminder that they bring. Memories that are attached to these inanimate objects that no one else would place much value in. Truly the furniture itself isn't worth much. But the memories...the memories are priceless. Will I ever be able to let them go? How many things does a person need to hold on to after losing a loved one? What's a healthy number? I have a jacket, t-shirts, jeans, even undershirts and socks. Socks?! I picture Matt rolling his eyes at me and saying, "Deedubber, what are you doing? You really think it would hurt my feelings if you got rid of my socks?? You really think you'd forget about me if you got rid of them? Come on, now. Tighten up." I know it's irrational. I know it is. I can't seem to shake it, though. I don't want to shake it.
He may not be here physically, but he is still very much alive in my memory. Maybe I'm afraid of forgetting him...forgetting those memories that are so precious to me now. Walking through this angelversary with moments where my thoughts were NOT on him causes me to think that it's actually remotely possible for me to forget. Maybe that's why I cling to every little shred that's left of him here on earth. Have you seen the movie "Ghost"? I can totally relate to Demi Moore's character in the scene where she picks up a half-empty roll of roll-aids that Patrick Swayze's character left behind in his desk. It's ridiculous to keep roll-aids, of course, but I understand it.
Yes, today has been a weird day. I don't know how else to describe it. It has been sad, happy, maddening, guilt-ridden, enlightening and silly. I took the kids out to the basketball court today so they could ride their scooters. We have to walk through an open lawn courtyard to get there and there's another open lawn courtyard on the other side of the court. Today...today they were both teeming with dragonflies. If you know me at all, you know why that's significant. It was so amazing that I wanted to get a picture of it. Naturally, of course, the camera couldn't be located so you'll just have to take my word for it. It was amazing. We met a neighbor on the way back who was out walking his dog and even he commented on how unusual it was to see SO many dragonflies in the yard. God may or may not have put them there just for me but I'll tell you this much...He certainly gave me eyes to see them, and for that, I am very thankful. Did you know that Native American tribes believe the dragonfly signifies happiness, speed, and purity? It also represents transformation and the ever constant process of change. That's how I remember Matt...happy, vibrant, fast, and with a childhood innocence (naivete?) that he never outgrew. No dream was too big. Nothing was too far out of reach. This realization about his personality is what makes his death that much more unbelievable. He was our dreamer! Forever optimistic about the future and what could happen. NEVER willing to give up and throw in the towel. He inspired us all! So, how? I may never know. What was he thinking? A moment of weakness. We all have them. No one is immune. His death has been a transforming experience for all of us. I find myself in this ever constant process of change and sometimes, frankly, I don't like it. I don't feel ready for change. It feels too much like letting go which is something I don't want to do. That's part of the healing journey, though, isn't it? Change. Being transformed. So, I'll do my best. God is walking with me, even carrying me sometimes. The healing continues. His mercies are new every morning. <3 br="">
Today has been a weird day. It's Matt's angelversary and so he's been on my mind today moreso than most days. Even so, I've had true moments of happiness as well. Moments when I caught myself not even thinking about it being Matt's angelversary...and then feeling guilty for forgetting. Is that what happens after 4 years? You forget?? I could NEVER forget my brother. NEVER! So, what happened? I don't know. Life, I guess? Matt wouldn't want his death and consequently my mourning to consume the rest of my life. I know that. But shouldn't I spend ALL of today at least thinking about him? I've cried today. I'm crying now. Earlier my dear autistic son said to me, "Mommy, please don't cry. It hurts me." I was so touched by his comment and it occurred to me that grief doesn't just hurt the mourner. It hurts those we love to see us mourning. At least, I know I hurt when someone I love is hurting, whether it be emotional or physical pain. I hate it. It's awful.
Grief will make you do crazy things. Did you know that we have a hide-a-bed loveseat that is on its last leg...seriously looks like a dog got a hold of it and ripped the fabric off, chunks of padding are missing from the arms and the cushion has been ripped and re-sewn twice and needs a third treatment? I don't want to get rid of it. Why? Because Matt slept on it. Our recliner is losing upholstery at the seat and the padding underneath is peeking out at the crease between the seat and the back...but Matt sat in it. Our dining table is one we had growing up. It has scratches but we had meals together there as teens. It's just furniture, right? I can't take it with me and having it here isn't going to bring him back, right? But maybe having them around makes him feel that much closer. Maybe I like the reminder that they bring. Memories that are attached to these inanimate objects that no one else would place much value in. Truly the furniture itself isn't worth much. But the memories...the memories are priceless. Will I ever be able to let them go? How many things does a person need to hold on to after losing a loved one? What's a healthy number? I have a jacket, t-shirts, jeans, even undershirts and socks. Socks?! I picture Matt rolling his eyes at me and saying, "Deedubber, what are you doing? You really think it would hurt my feelings if you got rid of my socks?? You really think you'd forget about me if you got rid of them? Come on, now. Tighten up." I know it's irrational. I know it is. I can't seem to shake it, though. I don't want to shake it.
He may not be here physically, but he is still very much alive in my memory. Maybe I'm afraid of forgetting him...forgetting those memories that are so precious to me now. Walking through this angelversary with moments where my thoughts were NOT on him causes me to think that it's actually remotely possible for me to forget. Maybe that's why I cling to every little shred that's left of him here on earth. Have you seen the movie "Ghost"? I can totally relate to Demi Moore's character in the scene where she picks up a half-empty roll of roll-aids that Patrick Swayze's character left behind in his desk. It's ridiculous to keep roll-aids, of course, but I understand it.
Yes, today has been a weird day. I don't know how else to describe it. It has been sad, happy, maddening, guilt-ridden, enlightening and silly. I took the kids out to the basketball court today so they could ride their scooters. We have to walk through an open lawn courtyard to get there and there's another open lawn courtyard on the other side of the court. Today...today they were both teeming with dragonflies. If you know me at all, you know why that's significant. It was so amazing that I wanted to get a picture of it. Naturally, of course, the camera couldn't be located so you'll just have to take my word for it. It was amazing. We met a neighbor on the way back who was out walking his dog and even he commented on how unusual it was to see SO many dragonflies in the yard. God may or may not have put them there just for me but I'll tell you this much...He certainly gave me eyes to see them, and for that, I am very thankful. Did you know that Native American tribes believe the dragonfly signifies happiness, speed, and purity? It also represents transformation and the ever constant process of change. That's how I remember Matt...happy, vibrant, fast, and with a childhood innocence (naivete?) that he never outgrew. No dream was too big. Nothing was too far out of reach. This realization about his personality is what makes his death that much more unbelievable. He was our dreamer! Forever optimistic about the future and what could happen. NEVER willing to give up and throw in the towel. He inspired us all! So, how? I may never know. What was he thinking? A moment of weakness. We all have them. No one is immune. His death has been a transforming experience for all of us. I find myself in this ever constant process of change and sometimes, frankly, I don't like it. I don't feel ready for change. It feels too much like letting go which is something I don't want to do. That's part of the healing journey, though, isn't it? Change. Being transformed. So, I'll do my best. God is walking with me, even carrying me sometimes. The healing continues. His mercies are new every morning. <3 br="">
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