The Firsts of May - Weighted Celebrations
Written by Aura Brickler, Bret’s Widow and Blog Beneficiary
Evie and I, taking it all in.
These months following Bret’s death have been filled with every emotion the spectrum has to offer, colored by every single hue. The seasons have changed, a pink moon ushered in the possibility of new beginnings, snow-covered daffodils have come and gone, and the pandemic subsided enough to hug a few friends. Time moves on.
As we knew they would, the firsts have started, and many more linger, ominous on the horizon. They come with moments of sharp, deep pain softened sometimes by Evie’s infectious giggle, or finding a stunning photo of Bret, full of hope, when life was lighter. When I sit down to write about these moments words simply evaporate. The landscape of emotions is too vast and the speed of life too fast. I’m left wide-eyed and perplexed trying to hold back time just long enough to catch my breath. But, even when it feels like I have adjective dementia, I push myself anyway, because if I don’t try, I feel like I’ll lose my grip on all of the ways that Bret is staggeringly missed. Grief is rarely rational.
Evie and I greeting the Pacific Coast.
Our family traveled to Southern California last weekend to celebrate my brother Aris’s college graduation. Our first family trip without Bret. There was no graduation ceremony, but we gathered on the coast because after a year of such loss, distance, and sacrifice this milestone seemed worthy of in-person celebration. I was sixteen years old when he was born, my sister was seventeen. In a few blinks of the eye Aris has grown into a thoughtful and brilliant young man. Because my sister and I are so much older, we don’t have a typical sibling relationship with Aris; we’re more like nagging mother hens who occasionally give unwanted advice or take jabs at the generational differences. Because he is much younger, he has easily taken on the role of Evie’s favorite uncle, and he’s stepping into it knowing he can help fill some of the space that Bret’s absence leaves for her. After a FaceTime call in February, he described this as an honor, not a burden, when I unceremoniously acknowledged his promotion. When I see the pride he takes in being Evie’s uncle my anxious heart softens. With the love that surrounds her, she will be fine.
Aris has been dating someone for the better part of two years. This trip would be the first time our family meets her, and as I count chairs around the patio table to ensure everyone has a place, I realize not only is Bret not here, but someone else will soon be in his seat. Someone who never had the chance to meet him. I stood there, speechless for a moment, and just let a tear do the talking. There was no resentment toward this new occupant but rather an aversion to the way time keeps moving on, quickly, with no consideration for my need to take a pause. For my need to catch up, and find the right adjectives.
Later that night, as I put Evie to bed she asked, What shirt was daddy wearing when he died? A brief conversation followed, which included questions like Why did he even go to the hospital? and Why couldn’t the doctors fix his lungs?
Waking up on Mother’s Day, reflecting on Evie’s questions, her matter-of-fact processing of Bret’s death, and how I’m doing as her underqualified grief guide, brought a palpable sadness to the day. After the coffee was made and before the rest of the family woke up, my mom and I shared this sadness on the patio. Often, when talking about the ways Bret is missed, smiles and laughter follow, as we remember specific moments or personality bits that made him so lovable. This moment of shared grief was interrupted by Evie begging us to jump on the trampoline with her. I pictured Bret, tethered to his oxygen tank for two years, always pushing through. We wiped the tears and we played, Evie’s laugh bouncing all over the rented back yard.
Evie's general disposition; in motion and happy.
Some time later, Bret’s mom and I cried our way through text messages trying to imagine how badly this day hurts for the other one. The pain of losing a child seems unbearable in comparison to my own loss. I try to be in that space with her knowing that I can’t possibly understand the depth of it. After several other kind, loving messages showed up I was ready to admit that this Mother’s Day would be harder than I thought. My anxiety was growing, the knots in my stomach were tightening, and the weight on my chest was bearing down. I needed to retreat. Once the others woke up, I set out for the beach.
As I moved past the crowds, hiding fast-flowing tears behind my sunglasses, all I could see were happy families, dads playing, moms sunbathing. This of course was a delusion, but again, grief is not rational. I just walked and cried and looked to the clouds for Bret’s assurance. He had such a way of letting me know that everything would be okay. It was a gift I never knew the value of, or at least one that I took for granted. If I squint my eyes just so, his soft smile comes into view, and when I close them to blink away the last few tears of the day, I can imagine his arms wrapped around me and my head resting on his chest. I finally take a breath. A deep, full breath.
Finding solace at Moonlight Beach.
Many days later my heart is still heavy for those whose Mother's Day was spent grieving in between the celebrations. To those who have lost their mothers, mothers who have lost a child, mothers who are doing it all on their own, those who can’t have a family in the way they had hoped, and to those whose mothers don’t see them for the treasures that they are, I'm walking along side you.
My heart is simultaneously joyful for the women of Evie’s life: her Yia-Yia, her Grams, her Aunt Aushie (who has been her steadfast caregiver and whose bond is unbreakable), and my amazing friends who have opened their hearts for us and love Evie like their own. With a heart speckled by bits of grief, gratitude, and everything in between, Happy (belated) Mother's Day.
Evie and her beloved Aushie, navigating LAX. Evie's "Daddy Bear", made from Bret's most worn dress shirts, is along for the ride.
Evie basking in the love of her Grams, Bev Hoekema, and Yia-Yia, Ellie Lemberis.
Evie and Yia-Yia playing tag with the waves.
