Right now, I am lying in a hotel room bed in Waukesha, WI. I feel like I have done nothing but drive/ride in a car in the last two days, my eyes are burning from the constant attempts to suppress my tears and stay strong, and my stomach is relentlessly churning with the anxiety I am trying my hardest to control. The shock waves a person's death can make in the lives of people is incredible to me.
Honestly, being on this side of the grieving process is very foreign to me. I am close to people who are hugely affected by John's death, but I didn't know him that well. But I am here... I am here for my brother and Lianne and the rest of their family just like all those people who have been there for me and my family during the loss of loved ones. I don't know how to respond or how to act. For someone who is so used to being on that side of grief that is the completely world-shattering, hole in my life kind of grief, the concept of being on the periphery of persons affected by the death of Lianne's dad is hard for me to comprehend and fit into my brain.
A part of me feels like I should be doing more, like I should be finding some huge way to comfort them, but then I think about how I always felt during those times of utmost grief in my life and what I wanted most. More than anything, I just wanted life to seem normal again... even if it was just for a little bit. So, that's what I've been trying to do; give them a few moments where they can just feel like life hasn't changed drastically. I know that this feeling right now can only last them a few moments here and there. I know that in less than a second their minds snap back to this terribly painful loss. But I also know they don't want to cry more, they don't want to keep talking about it, they don't want people to keep telling them that it's all part of the plan or that he's in a better place, and they don't want to hear anymore professions of the sincere sympathy of their friends. They need those moments of normalcy.
So, as I sat in their apartment tonight, I mostly just listened as the conversation jumped back and forth between funeral arrangements and wedding plans. In those moments, I couldn't help but truly appreciate the beauty and mystery of life as somehow these two pivotal moments in a person's life were essentially the only topics of conversation Kevin and Lianne could process right now. Pain and loss are a part of life, but both Kevin and Lianne have suffered much more of these than people their age should have to. Somehow, though, they found their way to each other. Lianne healed my brother of a broken heart that he has carried with him for 15 years. Now, their hearts break together over the loss of John barely more than a year before their two hearts will become one through their marriage.
To me, this is truly one of the most beautiful things to see in life. Even in the midst of our greatest sorrows and heartbreaks and tragedies, there is hope for the future and love in our hearts if we will only allow ourselves to be open to feel and experience all of that at once. Inside of ourselves, we can find strength and courage and dreams and drive and love and hope and faith and peace and joy even at our most painful points in life. And that? That is beautiful.
"God doesn't hate us, Harry. If He did, He wouldn't have made our hearts so strong." - Feast of Love
Honestly, being on this side of the grieving process is very foreign to me. I am close to people who are hugely affected by John's death, but I didn't know him that well. But I am here... I am here for my brother and Lianne and the rest of their family just like all those people who have been there for me and my family during the loss of loved ones. I don't know how to respond or how to act. For someone who is so used to being on that side of grief that is the completely world-shattering, hole in my life kind of grief, the concept of being on the periphery of persons affected by the death of Lianne's dad is hard for me to comprehend and fit into my brain.
A part of me feels like I should be doing more, like I should be finding some huge way to comfort them, but then I think about how I always felt during those times of utmost grief in my life and what I wanted most. More than anything, I just wanted life to seem normal again... even if it was just for a little bit. So, that's what I've been trying to do; give them a few moments where they can just feel like life hasn't changed drastically. I know that this feeling right now can only last them a few moments here and there. I know that in less than a second their minds snap back to this terribly painful loss. But I also know they don't want to cry more, they don't want to keep talking about it, they don't want people to keep telling them that it's all part of the plan or that he's in a better place, and they don't want to hear anymore professions of the sincere sympathy of their friends. They need those moments of normalcy.
So, as I sat in their apartment tonight, I mostly just listened as the conversation jumped back and forth between funeral arrangements and wedding plans. In those moments, I couldn't help but truly appreciate the beauty and mystery of life as somehow these two pivotal moments in a person's life were essentially the only topics of conversation Kevin and Lianne could process right now. Pain and loss are a part of life, but both Kevin and Lianne have suffered much more of these than people their age should have to. Somehow, though, they found their way to each other. Lianne healed my brother of a broken heart that he has carried with him for 15 years. Now, their hearts break together over the loss of John barely more than a year before their two hearts will become one through their marriage.
To me, this is truly one of the most beautiful things to see in life. Even in the midst of our greatest sorrows and heartbreaks and tragedies, there is hope for the future and love in our hearts if we will only allow ourselves to be open to feel and experience all of that at once. Inside of ourselves, we can find strength and courage and dreams and drive and love and hope and faith and peace and joy even at our most painful points in life. And that? That is beautiful.
"God doesn't hate us, Harry. If He did, He wouldn't have made our hearts so strong." - Feast of Love
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