Life Goes On

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Well, here I am back in the land of the living. I feel like I've been run through an industrial sheet sander. All my protective veneers were ripped away, and I was left naked and bleeding. I wondered what would happen, what I would become since I had never faced anything like a death so close. I didn't know if I'd lose it; sink into inescapable depression, or become self-destructive. I didn't know if I would bottle up the grief and let it eat a hole all the way through me.

But I survived intact, and I learned some really valuable lessons about who I am and how important family and true friends are. I'm not a hugger, but I deeply appreciated every hug and warm handshake I was offered. I've never known what to say to someone experiencing a loss like this. Always felt really awkward like nothing I said could possibly help. But it really does help. I so appreciated every kind word, especially from those who I could tell felt awkward like I would but made the effort anyway.

And, I was comforted by my lack of belief- believe it or not. I never felt angry at God, didn't have to try to find some justification for regarding the tragedy of my brother's death as in some way part of God's plan, and I found courage in accepting the blow without recourse to some pie-in-the-sky platitude.

More than anything, though, I learned how important my wife and my girls are to me. My wife was a fantastic pillar of strength for me, I'm in awe of her and the way she handled everything. I love my kids so much too, and I find myself more determined than ever to be the best dad I can be for them.

Chris
 
Welcome Chris...it's good to hear from you. I hope we all have that deep pool of strength, or foundation, or whatever it is, to hold on to when blows like this come. Thinking of Mark and his family all weekend...makes me hug my kids and husband tighter too.
 
Chris

I am glad that you have such a caring family. It has always been obvious to me how much you love them. And I'm so glad you are still here talking with us.

InPeace,
InLove
 
I've got this little observer guy in my head that watches what the rest of me does. It was an interesting thing to watch myself go through this. There was nothing at all good about Mark's death, but coming out the other end of this experience I feel remarkably clean in the sense of utter honesty with myself. I was able to cry openly without any sense of shame. All my walls came down and people just poured their love into me. It was utterly amazing!

I feel courageous too. I sang James Taylor's Shower the People at the funeral service. It was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. The service was held at the SDA church. I wasn't going to go at first because, for one thing, the pressure is intense- my father being an exalted mucky muck in the church hierarchy, and because I find the whole casket funeral thing so freakin' bizzare, macabre, downright scary, and stupidly extravagant. But I wanted to do something for everyone else. Mark died on Sunday morning. By Friday I had had the entire week to cry and I was making progress back from the state of utter confusion that I was in earlier in the week. I knew that most everyone else would take their hardest hit at the service, and I wanted to show them courage to help lift them up.

Funny how the bad things in life teach such valuable lessons.

Chris
 
I'm not a hugger
Well I am, and a big yet gentle virtual hug. Gentle because your not a hugger, and because of the visual I have of you being run through a commercial sander...that was quite clear.

Life does go on, and family, friends and loved ones do mean more. Hold on to that and allow it to grow.
 
Chris...
It does indeed go on, and on, and on.
A three-way-virtual hug with wil seems to be the best idea to me at this time.
G-d bless you and your family.

flow....
 
I lost my dad when I was 12. and the best thing to do you did.. just cry. And talk about him with people who loved him also.. theres so much healing in that.. oh and if he has children. dont shelter them from it.. My little brother was sheltered from it and he still to this day has problems.

I promise you Chris..the pain will lessen and one day you will wake up and there wont be that clenching knot in your gut when you realize all over again that hes gone.

*hugs*
 
It must have been very hard for you, Donna, losing your dad at such a young age. I'm so sorry, you're burden is surely heavier than mine.

Right now I'm thinking about the process whereby our loved ones, once deceased, become increasingly icon-ized and objectified until they become merely people in photos. We idolize their essence, mythologize them, and send them to join the ancestors in the old photos. I guess that's part of the healing process, but right now my brother is still very real to me. I don't want that kind of closure. I watched everyone say goodbye to the body, but we aren't our bodies.

I don't feel pain for my brother's passing, what I feel is an emptiness that I know well, only this time it's so much more acute.

Chris
 
... right now my brother is still very real to me. I don't want that kind of closure. I watched everyone say goodbye to the body, but we aren't our bodies.

I don't feel pain for my brother's passing, what I feel is an emptiness that I know well, only this time it's so much more acute.
To me that empitness fills with joyous memories.... I lost my sister and father 14 years ago... so often there are these wonderous moments of memories of when we were together, things they said, things we did, the way they were. But more than that there are 'living memories' when certain situations pop up...today...I sometimes chuckle knowing how they would react to this, or am blessed by an enlightenment of how they would respond...being able to utilize the connection with their being, with their presence in a occurance with my children or with another is incredible.

I don't know if I am making this clear but there is a part of your brother that is now stronger in you...that connection of who he was to you, and those pieces of him that you utilized during his life, will continue in new and wonderous ways...and that you will access and utilize forever.
 
It must have been very hard for you, Donna, losing your dad at such a young age. I'm so sorry, you're burden is surely heavier than mine.

Right now I'm thinking about the process whereby our loved ones, once deceased, become increasingly icon-ized and objectified until they become merely people in photos. We idolize their essence, mythologize them, and send them to join the ancestors in the old photos. I guess that's part of the healing process, but right now my brother is still very real to me. I don't want that kind of closure. I watched everyone say goodbye to the body, but we aren't our bodies.

I don't feel pain for my brother's passing, what I feel is an emptiness that I know well, only this time it's so much more acute.

Chris

I had my dad on a pedastal until recently. I now realize that he was just human and he made the same mistakes we all do ... it took 21 years.
 
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