Michael

Sometimes the right words just won't come. I've pondered and reflected and attempted to narrate all the things this year has taught me. How my life and heart changed last May 23, and the right words just won't come, but I feel like I will try to write anyway. It's been a journey. Grief is a unique experience, one that can only be understood until you walk through it. And even then it's hard to find the words. But maybe, if possible, I can try to express a few of the things I've learned over the last year. I've grieved many things in my life...being fatherless, broken relationships, loss of my tiny angel baby, death of grandparents, but this. The grief of losing my brother just feels different. Tragic. Sorrow. Unfinished. That's just what comes to mind when I try to process his life and it's end.

Most days now, I can smile and fondly remember all the things that I love about him. Yet, some days, for me are still hard to spend too much time in that space. Thinking. Wondering. Searching for answers to unanswerable questions. One thing I've learned is to set boundaries for the moments I spend in that head space. I have to limit them. I keep them short, not because I want to forget, but because I can't live there. I also keep the sad moments short because I want to focus on the good. I spent several months last year lost in fear. Controlled by anxieties I had and I spent way too much time hanging out with the what ifs and all the fears I could imagine. I spent hours, days, months wondering what bad thing is coming next? And through some soul searching, journaling, reading, prayer, a whole lot of patience and time, I know that is not how I want to live. Afraid. Anxious.  I want to live in gratitude and live each and every moment I'm granted with a new vividness and purpose. Live well and live with grace and that means, for me, giving the negative stuff limited head space. I allow myself to think, process, and feel, because that is so important, but I don't allow myself to unpack and live there, to be controlled by it. I have a set time I can do that each day and should the thoughts try to creep and interrupt my time with my children or family, I remind myself the time I'm allowed to think about it, and I save it for then. This has by far been one of the most valuable lessons I've learned this year. And in addition to that, another extremely valuable lesson I happened upon during some reading reguarding shifting your focus from negative to gratitude is that gratitude and anxiety can not coexist. I questioned this a lot at first, but each time I feel anxious, I take a time out and think of 10 small things I'm thankful for, right then, at that very moment and just a small little action like that can quiet the doubts and fears and anxieties that are trying to move in. It takes the control away from them and shifts me back to positive. I say all that, also still recongnizing that I am a very realistic person. I don't do the fairy tale "everything is just fine" mentality. I never have. People will disappoint you, life will be hard sometimes, things don't always work out picture perfect, but all of that being said, you can still be a very purpose driven, motivated person who lives with intention and grace and without fear and anxiety over allllll the tiny details. 

We have also learned to slow down a lot this year. This, for us...taking time to go camping together, time away from all the expectations, freeing up our head space of other things, not overcommitting ourselves and our children, not overcommitting our finances, scheduling family days, exploring nature together, more often, not after all the other things are done, but before, and stepping away some social media accounts...these are ways we, as a family, live with intention. It works for us. It has added meaning and even more purpose to our lives and we don't plan on changing any of that anytime soon! And, I promise, even intentionally slowing down, our lives as small business owners and homeschooling 4 kids is still crazy busy. Trust me! Ha.

Michael will always be a piece of my heart. He and I were 11 months apart and he was my first friend. He stood over 6 ft tall and always took great pride in his wardrobe and hair do. Lol. He was the father to 3 great kids. A brother. A son. A grandson. The ending to his life will always be a tragedy. There was so much more untapped potential and life to live. But, at some point the reality of no more must be accepted and a conclusion written to that chapter of life. He was not perfect, by any means, and life was hard on him.  I always tried to tell him I loved him when the opportunity arose and I pray he knew how much! He could make anyone laugh. And his hugs. Oh, those hugs. It could be months between them, but every time, he would hug you so tight and yet so tender. I've learned the power of preserving the sound of a voice on videos and preserving memories through photos. I had no idea, a year ago, that would be all that was left of life with a brother. The years are a memory and I am adjusting to life without a brother earth side. It's different.  And I think, forever, I will occasionally close my eyes and just try to breathe in one more hug, one more squeeze, one more smile, and one last "hey buddy!" from that gentle giant that was my brother.