I want to write

I’m ready to write more blog posts now, I am. I just need something to say that doesn’t lead me back down the rabbit hole of grief. I’m working on another links post and I’ve got a few more ideas in the works, but I just feel like free-writing.

I can’t let my mind go like I could three weeks ago, because it always goes back to Jaden, Jaden, Jaden. Now I understand what people mean when they say “I think about him every day” years after someone has died. They literally mean every single day. I didn’t believe it was possible, that there was enough room in a person’s brain to think about the ones they’ve lost and go on with their lives but somehow it is possible.

I had an awkward moment the other day where someone asked me how my family was doing. They asked because there were insane floods ruining huge parts of Alberta (including downtown Calgary), but I totally froze. Does he know my brother died? He doesn’t know. Should I tell him? Is it my job to tell him? It was a case of either me not telling him and hoping he’d forget all about my family, or else I could tell him and probably cry and make him feel super bad for bringing it up even though he didn’t know. I “had to make a phone call” instead of doing either thing.

But I can’t keep making phone calls. Another guy, a friend of a friend, was in town and he was all “So how have you been doing lately? What’s new?” And I was all like “fine, nothing’s new” but that felt like a horrible lie so I changed my answer to “actually pretty terrible” and went on to totally bring everybody in the room down…I guess I’ll just keep it on a need to know basis from now on.

I just felt like I couldn’t do the absolute horror of the situation justice in that type of small, just-catching-up conversation. The way I screamed and screamed into my pillow after my sister told me how they found him that morning. Knowing that the body I was seeing gasping for air at the children’s hospital was the same little buddy I fell in love with fourteen years ago and he was already gone by the time I got there. There will never be another chance for us to make jokes at Christmas, I can never watch him play hockey again…I had plans to start inviting him out to Victoria to stay for a weekend here and there “when he got older”…

Another thing I’m struggling with on my blog is the right thing to say. I really want to pour my heart out and my guts and my brain but I also don’t want to say too much. I want my mom to be able to read this, but I also want to express the true dark and gritty hurt I have. I don’t feel like “sorrow” or “grief” cover the rock hard wall I hit. I actually have felt differently about everything since Jaden died, I think it reset my emotions and the things I care about. I care less. I’m not sure if that’s a temporary thing or a good thing or bad.

You see? I just wrote what I was thinking and this is what came out.

There are good things going on in my life. I have some great friends who I have been ignoring. (sorry!!) Yesterday I got new heart shaped sunglasses and had good hair and got a new tattoo (and Gerry fixed a poorly done one by another guy as well). We got a new oven. A great friend just told me just now as I’m typing that she’s coming to town next week. But my mind is just JADENJADENJADEN as soon as I let it go.



10 thoughts on “I want to write

  1. Grief is a roller coaster and all you can do is hang on tight…

    My Mum passed away 35 years ago and I still think about her everyday. Some days are easier than others. Some memories bring laughter. Some bring tears. In fact I cried like a baby about her on my birthday the other night. She should be here with me. Its not fair. I still need her… ;( I only had her in my life for 10 years but she still is an integral an important part of everything I do.

    But no matter what… These feelings… Trust them. Embrace them. They are a gift because they keep the memory of your loved one alive and that’s a beautiful thing. These memories might hurt now but you may find over time that they give you solace later. Trust the process.

  2. Nova – when pain is so big, words are just so small. I’m not going to say “it’ll get better” or “time heals” or any other trite shit you don’t want to hear. All I can say is that my mom died seven years ago and I still think of her every day. The first several weeks after her passing I was basically paralyzed emotionally, in a way. Emotional time freezes because when pain is that big, you’re cut open and raw and exposed, like a huge freshly popped blister on your foot that you think will never be normal again. All I can say is that slowly, without you’re even noticing, you’ll have moments where you watch a movie and you don’t think of the person for two hours. Then you have a grief attack, powerful waves washing over you and threatening to consume. And twenty minutes later, the wave has passed and you can keep going again. The only thing to say is all that you can do is what you can do and remember to breathe in and breathe out. That’s it.

    • The “grief attack”, so true. It comes out of nowhere, for what seems like no reason. I wasn’t even actively thinking about him last night and then my heart just broke again. Thanks for the kind words.

  3. I’ve been thinking about you since I saw your tweet or tumblr or whatever it was a few weeks ago. And I don’t mean that in a creepy way, it’s more like taking a moment to acknowledge people I know / know of who are experiencing loss and grief and death (etc) and trying to send out vibes of solidarity to the Universe. Not that this fixes anything or that I understand how other people suffer (because that’s obviously an individual experience), but sometimes it’s nice to know that other people recognize not only your loss, but that the world is missing out on someone great now that they’re gone.

    You don’t owe anyone answers or explanations right now, so come up with a memorized response for strangers and acquaintances that’ll help you change the subject until you want to talk about your brother. Something along the lines of: “I’ve had a rough month, but I don’t want to go into it. What have you been up to?” They can find out about Jaden later.

    I still run into people who don’t know Mike had a stroke (acquaintances and friends of friends) and I STILL feel weird explaining what happened and how he’s disabled now, blah blah blah… and it’s been a year and a half. I’ve honestly considered making a pamphlet so I can just hand it to people and keep walking. (*side note: this strikes me as a potentially lucrative business venture: grief and/or life change cards! For all those awkward moments when you don’t feel like explaining your shit to strangers! BRILLIANT.)

    Anyway, I guess I’m just trying to say that I get how awkward public grief / lack thereof can be. It’s okay, people get it (or they will, when they eventually figure out what’s going on. And if they don’t get it, they’re assholes). Do what you gotta do. Hugs.

    • That’s a good response, I’m going to remember that. Thank you. Your situation is harder to explain than mine, I can imagine how difficult it would be to convey the love and the seriousness of your relationship and how it’s been affected by his stroke. Thanks.

  4. I’ve been thinking of you friend, and can only second what everyone else has said above this comment. It’s strange how when you lose someone close to you how nothing seems or feels right. Not words, not actions, not inaction, not silence. I have no advice (and I know you didn’t ask for any) except to feel what you’re feeling without apologies and keep doing what feels the most right. You know where I am if you need anything friend. ❤

    • Thanks Caitlin. It means a lot that I have so much real support from you people I don’t even really know that well. Most of the people in my real life are over it and want me to just get on with my cheerful self, you know? Not that I can blame them but … it’s just nice to know you’re there to listen.

  5. I’ve been wanting to say something good and comforting and nice to you since I read the first post about your brother. But I don’t know how, as I cannot imagine how you are feeling inside. So please just take this as a big virtual hug. If you feel like a hug from a perfect stranger. x

  6. It’s not up to you to provide explanations to anyone, nor should you feel guilty about ‘bringing everyone down’ if you explain how you’re actually feeling. It’s your grief and you need to deal with it in the way that feels best for you, nobody is going to blame you for concentrating solely on yourself right now – it’s an absolutely mammoth thing that you are trying to come to terms with. I will be here reading whether you are freewriting or whatever, and if you need anything then let me know. Sometimes talking to an ‘outsider’ helps I guess.

tell me something

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s