August 13, 2014

Dear Matt,

Robin Williams died Monday...but I'm guessing you probably already knew that.  Our sister celebrated another year of her birth yesterday...but you already knew that too.  Today...well, you know what today is.

Most of the time I keep it together.  In fact, most of the time I don't even have to think about "keeping it together"...I just do.  Most of the time I'm happy...not pretend-happy, but truly happy. 

But there are still days when I'm not.  Days like today.  I revert to anger.  I revert to tears.  I revert to questions that I know will never have an answer in this life yet still in my stubborn will, I ask them.  "What if only?"  "Why?"  I ask for the impossible- that I could somehow wake up and realize that ALL of this had just been a bad dream and nothing more- that you are really alive and well and everything in this world is as it should be.

Only it's not.  Everything in this world is NOT as it should be.  That all started well before your death with the fall of Adam, didn't it?  God never said life would be fair, did He?  Now the eye of the world is on Robin Williams' death and his recent passing, for me, only amplifies the emotions that come with this season and highlight, yet again, that this world is NOT as it should be.

I'm angry.  I'm angry at you for doing something so stupid...and permanent.  Did I mention stupid?!(People say not to speak ill of the dead but I'll always be your big sister and that entitles me the right and privilege to call your actions stupid whenever the shoe fits.)  I'm angry at myself for not noticing just how far you'd fallen.  I'm angry with the world that, instead of learning from others' heartache and pain, continues to kill itself.  I mean, suicide is the only cause of death that is 100% preventable.  So, why hasn't it been 100% prevented already?!  I'm angry that your kids won't know you...might not even know that you ever existed!  I'm angry that now when someone asks me how many siblings I have or if I have a brother, that I often have to choose between the simple misleading answer or risk awkwardness with a longer explanation.  I don't want to be known as "the woman whose brother killed himself."  I'm more than that. YOU were more than that.  Excuse my language but it just really pisses me off!  How dare you do that!

I'm sad, too.  I'm sad that there is so much in this life that you're missing...and will continue to miss.  I'm sad that when I lost you, I lost my nephews too.  I'm sad (and also angry) that dreams I didn't even know I had are coming true and I find myself thinking- "Matt's missing this."  My kids won't grow up with their cousins.  We won't take care of mom and Chris together in their old age.  I'm sad that my kids won't have Uncle Matt to show them how to throw a baseball or steal a base.  I'm sad for our sister that you won't be there to walk her down the aisle when she gets married or to hold her future kids.  I'm sad that we won't be grandparents together someday or take vacations together.  I'm sad that holidays now aren't quite as boisterous and that an entire appendage of our family tree is now absent at those events.

Justin and I have been toying with the idea of having another kid or two.  (This is news to some people. ;))  I've always wanted a big family but for some reason, the thought of having a child that will never meet their "Uncle Matt" (at least in this life) kind of bothers me.  It's true that all three of our kids were so young when you died that they most likely don't remember you either but at least they have pictures.  They have video footage.  They have gifts.  Any child we have now won't even have those things to connect with you...just our stories and the photos of others.

I'm concentrating on the burdens right now and ignoring the blessings.  I know that.  But this is one of the few days of the year where I allow myself to completely fall to pieces if I want to so just give me some room for now.

Up until recently, whenever the kids asked how you died, I'd always say you died of a broken heart.  Now that they're older, we've filled in more of the details.  I won't lie.  It's very jarring and unnerving to hear your 9 year old ask you why your brother killed himself...why he hung himself.  How do I answer that when I don't fully know the answer myself?

Matt, you were and still are so dearly and deeply loved.  It's impossible for me to imagine you ever not knowing that.  If I ever gave you reason to think otherwise, I'm so so very sorry.

It's been 5 years.  I've come a long way on this grief journey since that dreadful day, but I've got a ways still yet to go.  Through it all, God is faithful.  His mercies are new every morning and oh, how thankful I am for that!

Love always and forever,
Big Sis

P.S.-There's been a birth in the family today...but you already knew that, didn't you? <3 p="">

It's Only God Who Makes You Whole

It's been over 3 years but holidays are still hard.  Not as hard as the first year.  But still hard.  Honestly, this year may be harder than last year simply because this is our family year rotation for Christmas, meaning I would normally be seeing Matt on the 25th along with the rest of the family, whereas last year was an "in-law" year so seeing him for the holidays wasn't expected.

So as Christmas draws nearer and nearer, I still find joy in the season while savoring and creating more precious memories with my husband and children as well as our extended family.  Yet, the ache remains.  The longing for him to be a part of this, for my nephews to be a part of this (another very difficult thing to swallow particularly since they are still alive), for what might have been...  There is a hole, a void, something- nay, someones missing.   And there always will be.

But that doesn't mean we remain stuck in our grief.  It doesn't mean we spend the rest of our lives in misery or dread every holiday.  We have good days and we have bad days.  Hopefully, as time passes and God heals our broken hearts we have more good than bad days.  Those of us who have traveled through the valley of grief and loss understand that feeling, particularly Christians.  We have heartache, but we have hope.  We miss those we love but are thankful that we will see them again and look forward to that day when God makes everything new and there is no more death or crying or sorrow or pain.

I started thinking about Matt on the way home this afternoon.  The kids wanted to listen to one of their CD's for the umpteenth time and one of the songs (which I've heard a zillion times before) really struck a cord this time.  Here are the lyrics and a youtube clip of a children's group singing the song.  The entire musical is really cute so if you are interested in the sheet music or CD, go to kidsworksmusic.com for more information.  The name of the show is "Life is Good" and the title of the song is "Good Grief".  The lyrics that really "hit home" with me are in bold.  If this is your first Christmas without a loved one, first of all, I'm so sorry for your loss.  Secondly, please take heart and do not fear.  God has overcome the world.  He can heal you.  Going through the fire can and will be painful and for someone as impatient as I am, it can take awhile.  But He will never leave you.  Will you come to Him?  Will you trust Him?  He is waiting.

No one on the planet is happy all the time.

Bad things happen every day.

But if you just remember, that God is there with you,

He will help you when you pray...

"Good grief." (x2 with echo)

It's perfect peace beyond belief.

It's knowing God is in control, good grief.

When something awful happens and you don't understand.

You can't find any hope inside.

The LORD wants you to trust Him, and never be afraid.

His loving arms will hold you tight.

Good grief. (x2 with echo)

It's perfect peace beyond belief.

It's knowing God is in control, good grief.

When trouble robs you like a thief,

It's only God who makes you whole, good grief.

Life is like a roller coaster, full of ups and downs.

Each day has good and bad times, with smiles and frowns.

But God promised to be there through all of our thicks and thins

And after the darkest night a bright new day begins.

Good grief (x2 with echo)

It's perfect peace beyond belief.

It's knowing God is in control.

Good grief (x2 with echo)

When trouble robs you like a thief,

It's only God who makes you whole,

Good grief.

"The LORD is close to the brokenhearted; He rescues those whose spirits are crushed."

Psalm 34:18

Savoring with Sara

With tear-filled eyes, my words fail me but yet I feel compelled to write.  I just finished watching Sara's funeral service by webcast.  What a beautiful tribute to a remarkable woman.  If you haven't seen her youtube clip yet, it is well worth 14 minutes of your time.  She has impacted countless lives by her love for God and her determination to serve Him.  I'm definitely one of them.

For those who haven't heard, Sara passed away in the early morning hours of August 28th.  So many of us prayed, begged, and pleaded with God to keep her here among us.  Not only for our sakes, but for the sake of her family, her husband, and especially...her children.  Two very handsome and adorable little boys.  They will probably miss her most of all.

I've mentioned before how I knew Sara.  We shared some of the same friends and so our paths would cross on occasions when we were both invited to a party, or game night, or fill-in-the-blank.  I remember her as mostly quiet, perhaps a little shy, but always, always kind.  I, on the other hand, had a tendency to talk too much and to speak without weighing my words first.  I think I had a pretty good head on my shoulders in college, but there was definitely a big dose of crazy mixed in, and I'm not talking about the "wacky, zany, so fun-to-be-around" kind of crazy (although I had a sizable dose of that too, at times).  What I'm referring to now was more like the "whoa, what is wrong with that chick?" kind of crazy.  That side of me tended to come out when I least expected it...well, honestly I never expected it.  (Who does?)  Looking back at Sara though, she always seemed emotionally stable and grounded...comfortable in her own skin.

She didn't fear death, only leaving her family behind.  And even then she knew that they would be taken care of in her absence by family and friends.  Still, mothers are unique individuals and not simply replaced.  Please continue to pray for her boys and her husband as they adjust to this new way of life.

I've learned so much from Sara.  She taught me the importance of savoring each day and each moment.  She showed me, through her battle with cancer and her untimely death, the brevity of life and how none of us are promised tomorrow.  In fact, even as I wrote this my daughter came to me wanting tickles, hugs, and kisses.  I stop now to savor those precious opportunities.  I'm still learning this new habit but I catch myself more and more often weighing everything in light of eternity.  I try to seek God's guidance on when to speak and when to keep silent, not always living up to that challenge but always being challenged by the living.

I feel a special connection to Sara even though we weren't very close.  We were in the same season of life together, the same age raising young kids, both the oldest of 3 children, both having one brother and one sister.  Also, she lost Anna and then received her cancer diagnosis a little more than a year after my brother passed away during a time when I was still fighting my way out of that valley...and her trek was just beginning.  She shares a birthday month with Matt, my brother.  She learned of her cancer on her birthday.  I learned of her cancer only a few days before my brother's would-be 30th birthday.  Sara left this earth on August 28th.  My brother left this earth in August, too.  His birthday falls on the 28th.  These dates may not be significant to anyone else but me.  I've always had a thing with numbers so the irony does not escape me.  The lessons I take away from this "coincidence" are:

1. Bad things happen to good people.  None of us are immune. 
2. We are not alone in our struggles.  We need each other.
3. God speaks to us in a variety of ways to comfort and encourage us (if only we will pay attention).
4. None of us know how many days we have on this earth and 
5. God is always present and He cares, regardless of what our circumstances may otherwise suggest.

I'm thankful for Sara and the life that she lived.  I'm thankful that she chose to share her story instead of keeping it hidden.  I'm thankful for her inspiration and will carry that with me for days, weeks, and even years to come.  Thank you, Sara, for teaching us to savor and pointing us to the Savior.  See you in heaven.  Oh!  And tell Matt I love him and look forward to seeing him again! :)

Three Years Ago Today

Three years ago today, my brother was still alive.  Three years ago today, my brother died.  It doesn't seem like that long ago.  Three years ago today, my family's world turned completely upside down in more ways than one.  I've been thinking about writing a book about our (primarily my) journey.  In honor of Matt's angel-versary, I thought I'd share a small portion with you today.  Warning: it's a dark post and this is only the beginning of the story.  There is hope to come and much of the story has yet to happen, much less be written.  Perhaps some of you have lost a loved one to suicide and can relate.  I hope this helps you, not hurts you.  It's a complicated pain like no other I've ever experienced.  I wouldn't wish it upon my worst enemy...and that's the honest truth.

"He's not ok"

I still remember it like it was yesterday.  As I sat in the library blogging about nothing of importance, the librarian approached me, asked my name and told me to call my husband and that it was an emergency.  I walked to the pay phone, worried about what constituted an emergency, yet kept my cool considering I had our only vehicle and perhaps he was just stranded and needed to get somewhere fast.  I was about to dial collect when Justin walked through the door.  I started to say, “Hey, I just got your message.  What’s going on?” but before I’d uttered two words, he was talking over me and walking right past me into the library.

“Where are your things?”

He made it to my work station before I did and quickly shut my laptop and stuffed it into the bag, not even bothering to turn it off first.  I mistook his distress for anger.  “What did I do?  Why is he so angry?” I thought. 

“What’s wrong?  What’s going on?” is all I could say. 

“I’ll tell you outside.  Not in here.”

We walked out the door and that’s when I spotted my uncle Kenny standing in the parking lot waiting for us.  A wave of panic hit me and I immediately thought of our kids.  “Did something happen to them?  Are they ok?  Oh, God, what has happened?  Please, please let them be ok.”  I stopped abruptly and demanded that Justin tell me what was going on. 

“Justin, what is it?  Why is Kenny here?  You’re scaring me!”  I rarely, if ever, use his first name to address him.

His expression softened, and I could see such sadness in his eyes, like he knew what he was about to say would crush me and he couldn’t bear to see it happen.  He was right. 

Squaring my shoulders with his and looking directly into my eyes he said, “Your mom called.  Your brother tried to kill himself.” 

I don’t even know how to describe the feeling that came over me...but I'll try.  Relief that the kids were ok, immediate guilt for thinking that, shock at what I’d just heard, and the inability to comprehend any of it.  Then something in me broke.  Devastation took over.  I lost control and it literally felt like someone (or something) else took over my body.  I watched myself wailing from somewhere up above and was powerless to silence it.  My legs gave out from under me and I fell to my knees. 

I know everyone inside the library must have heard me and I was thankful that my loving husband had the forethought not to tell me inside.  We sat there on the sidewalk, Justin holding me, as I continued to wail, cry, and panic.  Fear gripped my very heart.  A lady walked past us with a look of concern on her face.  She could tell something was terribly wrong, but that stopping to ask might be considered insensitive or intrusive so she continued on her way, careful not to stare.  Such a small thing, but her compassion is remembered.  I think Justin noticed her too and decided it was time to try to get me to the car. 

So sweetly he asked, “Do you think you can stand up?  Do you think you can walk?” 

He helped me up and, in addition to the heavy laptop case, carried most of my weight as I tried to put one foot in front of the other.  It wasn’t until we were standing next to the car that I processed exactly what Justin had said. 

“Wait!  He tried to kill himself, or he did kill himself?”  Maybe this wasn’t as bad as I thought.  Maybe Matt would be ok. 

With a look expressing a wish to tell me what I wanted to hear, he replied, “All I know is what your mom told me.  That’s all she said.” 

Kenny said nothing.  I suppose I knew then; I just didn’t want to believe it.  If Matt were alive, he would know and he would have told me that he was in the hospital somewhere or something to give me even the slightest bit of hope or comfort.

Justin took the keys from me, helped me into the car, and drove to my grandparents’ house.  Kenny followed.  Shaking, trembling, rocking back and forth in the seat and completely unable to keep still, I pleaded with God the entire way, “Oh, God.  Please let him be ok.  Let him be alive.  Please!  Maybe he’s in a coma, maybe he’s badly hurt but please, please, please!  Say he’s still alive!”  As we neared Nana and Papaw’s house, Justin cautioned me to wait for him before I got out of the car, apparently concerned that I may pass out if I got up too fast.  I didn’t listen, though.  As soon as the car stopped I darted out and ran towards the door.  I ran through the breakfast room, into the kitchen and peered at my grandfather who was standing in the den. 

“Is he ok?!” I asked with a desperation that surprised even me. 

With deep sadness Papaw replied, “No, honey.  He’s not ok.”

And there ended the denial; he was gone.  There was no “Well, he’s in critical condition right now” or “I don’t know, honey, we just have to get to the hospital as quickly as possible and find out” or “Your mom will call as soon as she knows something.”  The translation of my grandfather’s “He’s not ok” was “He is dead.”  How did this happen?  Even three years later it still makes no sense to me.  He can’t be gone.  That’s just not possible…But somehow…It is.  At some point amid a flood of tears, a silence fell and quickly broke with my simple, but impossible wish. “I want my brother back.”

 "God's loyal love couldn't have run out,
   his merciful love couldn't have dried up.
They're created new every morning.
   How great your faithfulness!
I'm sticking with God (I say it over and over).
   He's all I've got left."
Lamentations 3:22-24
The Message

God has remained faithful and ever-present with us on this journey and I hope to have the opportunity to share some of those instances with you in time.  He is, and has been, our help in times of trouble.  His faithfulness endures forever.  He is, and has been, our calm among the storm.  His faithfulness endures forever.  We will take heart, for He has overcome the world and nothing is impossible with Him!  His faithfulness endures forever.  Trouble will come, but joy comes in the morning!  His faithfulness endures forever. 

Thank you for taking the time to read this.  May you be encouraged and blessed today.

Gearing Up for the 5k!

I tell you for sure, gearing up for this 5k has really sent me through some emotional days.  I mean, I'm not just running a 5k.  I'm trying to support a cause that I passionately believe in now due to personal experience.  So naturally, my daily motivation causes me to reflect on what led me to this point...Matt.  Gracious, the devil really knows where to go to try to steal our joy, doesn't he?  Only, he can't take it without our permission.

I don't know how many of you have ever trained for a 5k before but let me tell you...it's exhausting.  I mean, physically, psychologically, and emotionally draining...yet, invigorating too.  It's a great irony, really.  You run and run and run until your body is physically hurting and then your mind starts screaming at you to stop.  Now you're in a psychological battle to keep going.  You have to silence the voice in your head that is telling you you can't, that it's too hard, that you have to quit.  And because you are doing this for very personal reasons, when the battle is over (or sometimes during) your emotions are really raw because exhaustion is one of the few things that makes you let your guard down.  You don't really have much of a choice at that point because you no longer have the energy to "keep it together"...not that you ever could on your own anyway.  Am I making any sense at all??

The Theological Threes

I had an interesting lunch conversation with my darling 3 year old today.  It started with the usual torrent of questions, only this time the questions were a bit more difficult to answer and explain.  Justin and I try to be very honest in how we answer our children's questions while also trying to maintain age appropriateness.  That's a challenging task sometimes but we feel that it's important in providing them with a sense of security, safety, and trust in us, their parents.  Our philosophy is, "Reality is your friend."  I suppose another way of saying that is, "The truth will set you free."  With that in mind, here's today's dialogue: