I’ve never been one to fear death. Yes, I’ve always been aware of it, maybe just something about the closeness of my brothers passing that brought new light to it. I’m not sure.
I don’t think it’s the death I fear I think it’s the inconvenience to my family and my friends. The change. And knowing it’s the end of life here.
The knowing at anytime my life could be taken and what heartache that would cause my Mum. I’m not sure how she would survive that.
With that comes a brand new feeling. I have also recently discovered the feeling of death anxiety. Something brand new to me. There is a certain level of fear connected to death anxiety. Fear of dying, which also brings out this odd fear of living at the same time.
I’ve never struggled with anxiety. I have always enjoyed being social. Now, I get the worst anxiety before I have to do something out of the house. I can handle the occasional grocery store run or gas station stop. But I have to be prepared. If I have plans with friends, driving there all I can think about is how to not die, all while thinking about the ways I could die being outside of the house. Such a bizarre feeling. I can’t wait for the summer so I can be outside, but still at home.
Every day is still a struggle to convince myself this is the new normal. That my brother is no longer here. I never would have thought in a million years that my 44 year old brother would die of a heart attack. Completely insane. It will never be ok.
There are a lot of emotions and feelings that happen after you lose your brother that nobody talks about.
In my case, my only sibling was my brother. There is this brand new fear of death. I was never scared of death much before he passed away. Maybe it’s not so much a fear of death and more like pressure to live.
Pressure to live, to not have my Mum go through something like that pain again. Pressure to live and to continue doing the things my brother loved. So he knows that every day I think of him. Everyday. I still have a hard time not crying, at least fight back tears at the mention of his name. Sometimes it only takes a thought of him and I’m triggered.
Lately my emotions get confused and shuffle themselves and buddy up. This new hybrid-emotion I’ve started feeling is something like a frustration-rage. I have no idea how it happens, but I’m sure it falls somewhere within the grieving process.
It doesn’t last too long, thankfully and if I’m fortunate enough for it to happen while I’m driving I can usually balance my self out with the help of some music.
The past few weeks have been a heavy weight on the heart. My mother in law, who has courageously battled cancer for many years has decided on a medically assisted death.
I can’t agree or disagree with this because I have never experienced this before. What I can say is I am proud of her decision. I admire her strength to be able to make that decision. And ultimately, it’s her decision and she has made it. It’s what she thinks is best.
The level of dignity in that decision is how we all should come to an end. No more pain for all. I know it seems strange to think about and many are not that fortunate. And possibly the most important thing at that time is to know how loved that person was. To be surrounded by your family, who loves you and wishes the pain would go away.
No matter the size of their family, big or small. Coming together to celebrate life and love is what matters most.
Memories really are the best things well ever have.
I haven’t worn mascara since March, 2019. I just couldn’t seem to keep it on without it turning to a streaky mess. I’ve come to the point where I am comfortable without it now.
Grief often feels like when you’re driving down a road you’ve never been down before. Except there aren’t many signs which tell you which way to go.
I think about my brother every day. All day. I just have so many questions to ask. Not ask him but someone, or something. I guess the hardest question would be why? Why did this happen? I’ll never ever get an answer to that question. Nobody ever does. Maybe as days go by you just start to wonder less.
My phone rang just after 7 am. It was Melissa, Michael’s fiancé. I don’t exactly recall all the words, only Michael*heart attack*ambulance*hospital.
I gathered my thoughts and fears, got dressed and headed to the hospital in a daze. My brother remained in a coma and was pronounced dead 5 days later.
March 31, 2019. The day everything changed. We suffered such a tremendous loss in this world when Michael passed away. He created this gigantic impact on our tiny planet during his 44 years with us.
It has been 128 days since I have seen or talked to my brother. Trying to grasp this has been extremely hard. This is a journey I wish I could never have taken. However life throws us a ball and we try our best to move our arms and swing.
Please join this journey with me and feel free to share your special journey as well.