I feel like somewhat of an imposter writing about grief, as I don’t fully understand it. I have written it in my mind several times, because I need to put into words how I feel. But I am finding that grief is complex and somewhat unexplainable. Similar to the confusion I felt and still feel the day I was told, “he has gone to be with the Lord.” Grief is never ending, unlike his life which ended. 

I remember the day I found out that he was gone, I was assisting with the planning of my friend’s baby shower. I didn’t understand what I had just been told, “he has gone to be with the Lord.” I saw their faces, the pain they must have felt to give me that news, I cried, a few minutes later, I said, “we need to go buy her cake, I want to go buy her cake for the baby shower. Everything needs to come out cute.” I was told to rest. So I went to sleep, for a very long time. I knew that when I woke up, it would all be a dream. The first half of the day, I would realize, did not even happen. 

Grief feels like denial.

I was very much fixated on the baby shower. It needed to be perfect. Looking back, I thought if I focused on one thing, the other thing would disappear. So if I honed in on the baby shower and made it perfect, my brother would still be alive. Someone may not understand the correlation between those two things, but it made perfect sense to me. So the next day, following the news, I still went shopping for the baby shower. 

I was out and about following the news, and someone told me, “you are so strong.” I just looked at her. I was not sure if I was to say thank you or smile or what. Because I knew I was not strong, I was just numb. I didn’t feel anything and I couldn’t think of anything, so all I could manage was to DO. I had to keep doing things, and keep moving, because if I stopped, this news would consume me and swallow me whole. I had to give into the numbness. 

Grief feels like emptiness 

“ sorry for your loss.” “My deepest condolences.” “He’s in a better place.” “take heart.” All phrases I have said to other people before, all absolute nonsense. These were words I started getting from people who heard the news, wanting to offer comfort and remind me that I was in their thoughts. Well meaning, but these were the words that hurt the most, as it reinforced the truth I was fighting to accept. My older brother was dead. 

One of the most painful things that I heard was from people who I thought were sharing in this loss with me tell me, “sorry for your loss.” I wanted to scream and say, it’s OUR loss. Why are you not suffering like me? Why are you not a recipient of these phrases? Instead of saying all that, I simply ignored the text messages and phone calls. What was there to say after all?

I knew of the consequences of ignoring certain people. They would take it personally and distance themselves from me. But what did I care? One of my most important relationships had ended permanently. 

Grief feels like losing relationships. 

I found myself talking to people who fully understood the loss of my brother. Whose hearts were broken just like mine. I wanted to talk to people who knew him, who didn’t mind spending hours and hours sharing stories about him. Who didn’t mind being on the phone just listening to each other sob and comfort each other, and continue to cry, because HOW was he gone?

Grief feels like misery wanting company. 

Grief feels like strengthening relationships.

One thing I kept hearing from believers was that God knew what He was doing. That God has a plan for all of our lives, and it was his time to die. All I could think about was, what about his goodness? Where is his goodness towards me? If God was good, he would have spared his life and spared us this anguish. Where was God? Is this how He repays people that try to serve him and live according to His word?

But, why was going to God and tearing up my only option? Why was God the only comfort? Why was his promise of eternal life with Him the only anchor I could cleave to? My faith was fickle based on what I had lost, but my faith was strengthened because of the resurrection hope. 

Grief feels like shaken faith. 

Somedays, it feels like sorrow is all I will ever know. I feel like life is meaningless and nothing matters. Then there are days, when I am reminded that life is short and death will come for us all, so I should make every moment count. There are days when I cry on the inside, because physical tears only touch the surface of the pain I feel. Then there are days when I smile because I had the opportunity of having my brother for 34 years of his life. 34 years of laughing, arguing, crying and many stories to pass down. I think about the amazing things and people I have in my life because of him, and I am thankful. I think of how I am constantly aware of my mortality and how death would eventually come for us all, so I need to set my affairs straight while I can. I am thankful for the reminder to love those I affectionately call my loved ones. 

Grief feels like gratitude

Funeral flyers, whats app messages that can never be responded to, random pictures that pop up in a google memory, are all things that have caused me agony. 

But the night time is the worst. It is when the world is silent and I am stuck alone with my thoughts. It is then that I relive the years, months, weeks, days, and moments leading up to death. It is then that I remember our last voice call. I remember that I was JUST talking to him less than 48 hours before his death. The night time is when I think about what his last thoughts and feelings must have been. Was he scared, was he happy, was he ready? My heart breaks every single night thinking about all he’s left behind. 

Grief feels like struggling to write this post, blurry eyes filled with tears, trying to capture and understand this deep sadness. It is wanting to write down my thoughts because I have to remember. 

Grief is asking WHY?

Grief is exhausting.