Missing a Piece

Welcome. This is a blog that deals with the loss of a sibling. I'll be posting my own stories and experiences. **Disclaimers** - Pictures are not mine and belong to their owners. - I am not a therapist or a medical professional of any sort.

[place-2-vent]

“I hold onto every single memory, because I know we won’t be making anymore.”

[silenceyells]

[wordsnquotes]

Come back! Even as a shadow, even as a dream.

Euripides, Herakles (via wordsnquotes)

[grievingsibling-blog]

After news got out about my brother’s death, people were quick to give their sympathies. The thing I noticed was that people seemed to rush through talking about me to talk about my parents. They’d ask how they were doing, how hard it has to be for them, and even if one was holding up better than the other. Now, I’m not trying to dismiss my parents’ grief or brush off people trying to be nice and supportive. It just happened a lot to the point where I became the person to give sympathies to my parents. They seemed to forget or maybe not even realize that I was grieving too.

I can’t imagine what it’s like for my parents to lose their son, their only son, but I had grief too. I really wish (some) people would have realized that and included me. I was hurting too and sometimes I really wasn’t okay, but I didn’t feel like I had the room or even the right to address that. This wasn’t with friends or family, thankfully. It also enforced this idea that I had to be strong for my parents. I don’t believe people intended it, but it ended up making me feel like I couldn’t be grieving too, because then I would be “weak” or making it worse for them.

The funny, or maybe ironic part, is that my brother was the strong one out of us. He was smart and always had an idea or some plan. When my grandma died, he was calm and kept us together. I wonder now if we didn’t give him a chance to feel like he could grieve... I guess I can save that for another day. After him it’s me. I’m not trying to say my parents or my sister aren’t, it’s just.. Short strory: again, when my grandma died her things were with her brother and his wife. There was (and still is) drama and issues with them. The family ended up electing me to go out there and deal with them, since my brother wasn’t able to.

This all ties in to why I felt like I had to be strong. I didn’t want to cry around anyone, because my mom was a mess and I wanted to be her rock. My sister couldn’t handle looking at his body, so of course I went with my mom so she could see him. I know that it’s silly to think that way, because I know I’m allowed to grieve, but when everything was falling apart I instantly wanted to be strong for them. I wanted them to know that I was there for them and that they didn’t have to worry about me. I think it put aside the reality of what was happening, since I was focused on other things. I called 911, I waited for the ambulance, I even called my brother’s ex-girlfriend to tell her. There were moments during those first few hours where reality would hit me and I would cry. I felt like I let my new, smaller family, down. Again, I know this isn’t true, but it was hard not to feel that way when it was all so new.

[grievingsibling-blog]

I spent some time looking up books I could read about losing a sibling. If you aren’t Christian, a child, or a parent... There seems to be nothing out there. The only book aimed at adults I found is called “ Surviving the Death of a Sibling: Living Through Grief When an Adult Brother or Sister Dies “.

Yeah, it’s a mouth full of a title, but it’s good. It covers issues like middle children now being the oldest, how people tend to focus more on the parents and not the person who lost their sibling, and even has people talking about their experiences. Even though we lost a sibling through different circumstances, they cover a lot. More important they talk about how each person handled it. Someone’s sibling died of a long term illness, so when they passed the person was relieved and faced a lot of guilt. Other’s lost them suddenly and were in denial. 

The book also dismisses the idea of the stages of grief going in a certain order or finishing one before the next. You can even go back to ones you’ve dealt with. It’s comforting to know that you aren’t “crazy” or “losing progress”.

This is the link to the book on Goodreads in case anyone wants to read more about what the book is about, reviews, and maybe even a price if you’re looking to buy it. I suggest going to a library and trying to find it there. That way if you like it you can go buy it and if not... Well, you didn’t waste any money.

[grievingyoung]

I used to talk to them. Now I can only write about them.

(via grievingyoung)

[inopinion]

When a person dies, can we all just extend some understanding to those experiencing the loss. There is no one way to grieve. They cannot cry too little or too much. They aren’t moving on too fast or too slow. They aren’t here to make you feel comfortable in your own assumptions about grief.

We do not grieve™ like Hollywood says. We grieve like the diverse and complex creatures we are.

[grievingsibling-blog]

I have a new worry now about people not breathing. I check in on my parents when they’re asleep and watch them for a few moments, just until I’m sure I can see them breathing. Usually I can hear them breathing or even snoring, so it doesn’t take long. I even started watching our cats when I see them sleeping. To their dislike, I even poked them a couple of times when I wasn’t sure. The only one I can’t check on is my sister, because she’s such a light sleeper. If I tried to even open her door it would wake her up and I don’t want to do that. I just can’t help having this fear now.

I don’t necessarily worry about it happening to me though. A few times I did imagine what it would be like if I died in my room and my parents tried to wake me up. I imagine them eventually walking upstairs and seeing me laying there. I can almost hear the panic and horror as they see me so still... It doesn’t come to mind often, which I’m really thankful for. I don’t like worrying about them, much less myself.

[grievingyoung]

The frustration that comes with knowing most people won’t understand my grief has shaped me to be more tolerant and understanding. It’s a complicated experience, like many others in life.

(via grievingyoung)

[zenwords]

It takes courage to grieve, to honor the pain we carry. We can grieve in tears or in meditative silence, in prayer or in song. In touching the pain of recent and long-held griefs, we come face to face with our genuine human vulnerability, with helplessness and hopelessness. These are the storm clouds of the heart.

Jack Kornfield, A meditation on grief  (via zenwords)

[broken-hearts-never-heal]

When you survive loss, everyone is quick to tell you how strong you are, and how tough you must be. But actually no one has a choice to survive grief do they? It’s not optional. You just have to cry in the shower, sob in your pillow and pray that you will make it.

[grievingyoung]

He died. God, it’s still weird to write those words, he died.

(via grievingyoung)

[schuylerpeck]

My grief and I are still so ill-acquainted; two strangers sharing one body. We bump into each other while reaching for the toothbrush, while walking the dog across the street. And I’m so close to recognizing her, I’ve listened to her cry at the bottom of the bathtub and watched her rub her eyes at a funeral. I want to tell her it’s all okay, I’m here too, and we can be here together, I am just too afraid to speak.

Schuyler Peck, Parts of Me I Haven’t Met (20/30: Grief)

[qvotable]

“But I must admit I miss you terribly. The world is too quiet without you nearby.”

— Lemony Snicket // The Beatrice Letters

[grievingyoung]

“One of the things that have always frustrated me about society when it comes to grief is the massive amount of books, information and resources for the afterlife, heaven, hell, how to speak to the dead, ghosts and so forth but there is not enough support out there for actual grief. For this. For all of the intense emotions we deal with every day for years after we’ve lost a loved one.”

— GY

[grievingsibling-blog]

After my brother died my parents were quick to pack his things. He was living with us during the months leading up to his death. Their hangout space (the basement) became his new room, so a lot of his things were down there. I think they packed everything up so quickly for the obvious reason of it being hard on them.

I never really went down there, but after Ed’s death I couldn’t think of going back down there. Honestly, I don’t know how my parents managed that or how they still do. Anyway, soon after his death I did make myself go down there a few times. One time was because I knew my mom was packing his things away. I didn’t want to go down there, but at the same time I felt like I had to. I had to be around his things and see what was there.

I ended up keeping a few things, one of which was his cell phone. It took me a long time to turn the thing on, because I was nervous. I didn’t know how I would react to seeing what he had on there. Not anything bad, but just pictures or notes he left himself. Even all the apps he had. It was something that captured bits and pieces of his personality, his likes, and his dislikes. 

I ended up finding a bunch of pictures of him and even a video that is now my favorite. It’s him and his son, (which I might go into detail in a later post) and his son isn’t too old. Maybe a year? I can’t say. But my brother is holding him and making him rap and do little moves to it, like having him look like he’s trying to bunch the air. That short video captures my brother so well. It’s him as I’ll always remember him; goofy, funny, and always able to make me laugh and smile.

The video made me sob and even typing about it now has me tearing up. It was the best find though. I’ve only watched it twice since his death. I just can’t work up the nerve to do it anymore than once a year it seems. I know it’s okay to cry and to be sad, but I sometimes wish I could talk about him without doing that. I want people to know him and I feel like when I cry, people want to stop talking about it, because they don’t want to upset me. I’m always upset though. With friends, laughing, enjoying a nice day... Underneath it all there is a part of me that is always sad, because I miss my brother. I get where they are coming from, I just wish they knew how happy it makes me to talk about him, for people who will never get to meet him to just know about him.

He was the first person I wanted anyone new to meet. Not talking about him now feels so weird. It makes his absence even more glaring and maybe even harder. I don’t know, because it’s hard to say. I just miss him and being able to talk about him.

[quoted-books]

I guess by now I should know enough about loss to realize that you never really stop missing someone-you just learn to live around the huge gaping hole of their absence.

Alyson Noel, Evermore (via quoted-books)