Ha! Gentle reader, I ask myself that question daily. Non-Sequitor girl is at it again. Fast forward many months since my last post. Fair warning - there will be no continuity here. One day will be recipes, one day will be parenting, one day will be leaden. One day will be funny and one will be boring and one will be sad. Because this is how my brain works. It's a veritable Vitamix of thought and emotion.
I still cry every day, and I definitely cannot hear "I Lived" by One Republic without my sadness and memories running down my face, but with a smile here and there as I blubber through the lyrics. "With every broken bone, I swear I lived." No doubt, big brother. Still surreal - and probably always will be - because each day is a new day of remembering, and grieving for, my big brother, gone now almost a year. Don't get me wrong, I am not speaking of grieving as if I am consumed with his passing. I am speaking of grieving as learning to navigate life after a heavy, shifting loss. The kind of loss that changes your cells inside, your heart inside, your life lens, and your foundation. Grief that shifts your thinking from minute to minute, day to day, or month to month, as you process what seems like an intangible and bizarre thing. It's physical, emotional, spiritual, physiological grief. And there are days when it IS OK, because I know he is OK. Truly OK. And that should be my focus because there is peace, and reconciliation, and space, and breath in that place. But there are also days soaked with tears, and anger, and denial, and resentment, and guilt, and feeling betrayed and anchorless in a room where the air is thick, and someone is pressing on my throat, and there is no space or breath. The days and moments were switching back and forth much faster a few months ago. They are slower in their switch in recent days, but sneakier in their ambush.
A very good friend, who has entirely too much experience in dealing with traumatic loss, and life moving excruciatingly forward thereafter, has coined it perfectly as "this is the year of firsts". First Christmas without him, first birthdays (mine and his), first time finding things of his unexpectedly, first time able to get through a conversation about him without losing it. She has a book of angel numbers that says when the number 13 keeps appearing in your life it means the angels are with you, taking care of everything. I know this to be true - our angel just happens to ride a motorcycle that looks like something out of Road Warrior, and wears an Aerostitch riding suit with a NASA patch on it. The one year mark is coming.
Ah 13. 10/13/2013 is the day my big brother left this world for a far better one, and the day our family's paradigm permanently shifted. He is 13 years older than me (yes, realize I speak in present tense about him sometimes, and other times in the past). He is my Godfather and the Godfather of our son and to me that's a big deal. I think he thought it was important, too, but not so much from the church/organized religion perspective. More from the "I will lay down in traffic for you because you're my family" perspective. Every 13th day of every month is a reminder of a burning, gaping hole in our family. But on the 13th of September this year, it was an absolutely perfect day in the PNW, much like the day John Charles was killed in NJ. I have never thought of 13 as unlucky, and I still don't. I know on that day he was soaking in the glory of the day at the church of blue sky and sunshine. It is a small consolation that he was killed doing that which he loved - that which defined him as the " World's Toughest Rider". It's small because I am selfish. I want him back here, with us and for us.
Life keeps going, life keeps going, just keep swimming - isn't that how it goes? Life moves forward, but we are still allowed to step off the treadmill once in a while. I am taking the day off from work on 10/13/2014 because I want to step off the treadmill for a bit. I want to find some way to breathe easy that day and I honestly don't know if I'll be able to do that when I am taking care of my people. It wouldn't be fair to them because I can't truly say if I will be focused on their needs that day, and that is my job. That is why I am privileged to take care of amazing people. They need healing, too, and I need to be able to deliver on my part. I am the instrument, they are the healers, and I can't be a focused, fine tuned, instrument, serving my patients with love when my brain and heart are heavy with grief.
Space, breathing, and hopefully a little sunshine on that day. Most definitely a drive somewhere he would've liked and he (in his little blue urn) can ride shotgun. Man he hated riding in cars. Hope he doesn't mind this time. Love and light to you, John Charles. Miss you every day. It's a beautiful day for a ride. ❤️
