It's crazy, but I still think about my brother every single day, yet a part of me forgets that he's gone. I guess maybe it's just that I don't want to accept it. I was thinking just the other day that we need to split something three ways--like always. We don't. The kids' proofs came for their spring pictures. As I prepared to order them, I thought about how many pictures I need. One less there too. How can I possibly forget?! I mean, it's something I think about every day!
I'm managing a lot better than I was, but I still feel guilty for having "normal" moments. I feel even more guilty when I have a happy moment. I have gone through a few of the "normal" steps of the grieving process now. Not quite in the same way that I probably should though. I have a lot less anger than I probably should. I have experienced a little, but it's more for what a mess he left my parents than it is for me. I haven't really felt much like it was my fault. (In case you didn't know this, most of the time the survivors feel guilt and anger when a loved one takes his or her own life). I don't really think that there was anything I could do. He knew that we would do anything for him. He knew that we loved him. I still don't understand why he did it, and I probably never will. That's something that will always bother me. He knew what suicide does to the survivors, and he would not do that to us--especially not the young man that he considered a son! Something somewhere went wrong, and we'll probably never know what and why. That reminds me of the well-meaning people who have said, "I didn't know things were that bad." Well, it wasn't. And what that comment does to some family members is make them think that you think their loved one was mentally unstable. For some survivors, their loved ones are transformed into saints quite soon after their deaths. I understand why they say that and that it's well-meaning, but there are some who do not. It angers them. It's so difficult to find the right things to say when someone dies because there are no right things to say.
That brings me to another point. Looks like today's post is going to get a bit "religious"(for lack of a better word--although I hate the connotation that goes along with that word now). One thing that brings me comfort is that I believe death was never part of God's original plan. I'll never forget that a former preacher of mine used to talk about how God is a good God. He would say that God doesn't give you cancer and sickness because "every perfect gift comes from above, from the father of lights." He said, "God doesn't have any of that in Heaven." Well, as I've come to understand what it is to be a parent, I understand better the idea of God as a loving father. In addition, if you read in Genesis, God put the Tree of Life in the Garden of Eden. Death was never part of His original plan. Death never entered the picture until Adam and Eve sinned. So I don't blame God when someone dies. He didn't take them away--especially in this case. My brother made a choice, and because God gave us the gift of free will, God did not prevent him from acting. I don't agree with his choice, but it was his choice. I wish he'd have given me the chance to talk him out of it, but he didn't.
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