I'm swiftly approaching the point at which I will do one of these things:
1. Curl up in a ball and rock back and forth humming tunelessly to myself.
2. Begin throwing random items at people, walls, vehicles, whatever happens to be near me at the time.
3. Be arrested for:
- A: Public intoxication, after which it will be discovered that my BAC is actually .000
- B: Assault on one of two females who seem to be hell bent on making Every. Damn. Thing. About. Them.
- C: Desecration of a grave site/unlawful discharge of a firearm. (I still say he'd think that rolling a keg into his grave and shooting it before they put him in the hole was awesome.)
- D: Any combination of the above.
Yes, it's rough. No, I'm not really ok. I actually don't really want to talk about my feelings because I can't adequately put them into words. Anyone who has been through it knows, and anyone who hasn't just doesn't have the reference. It doesn't make them bad people or mean that they can't sympathize, just that they won't really understand no matter how much you explain. Kind of like child birth.
I've almost got everything taken care of for his parents, I'm almost to the point where I can stop being efficient and just let go... but when I get to that point it means it's time to say goodbye and I am definitely not ready for that. But then, no one is ever ready to say goodbye to a baby brother, but we aren't given much choice.
So, I'll put on the shirt bearing his number and nickname in the morning, and I'll put on makeup that I'm just going to cry off (hey, he's wearing makeup, the least I can do is wear it with him) and I'll make sure that everything is right, and ready. Then I'll sit with my other family and we'll cry on each other as we realize that we really have to let go.
No matter how much we don't want to.
(I think R is running the betting pool, so if you want in on that you're gonna have to find her.)
8 comments:
I'm with you in spirit, lass, if not in the flesh. If you need to talk, your Dad has my number.
{Hugs}
Losing someone close to you is never easy. In my mind, the key is not forgetting, and not focusing on the death, but instead, focusing on the life he lived and the passions he had. Drop me an email or look me up if you want.
*hugs*
I think the function of a wake was to keep people drunk enough that they couldn't throw things, or at least so the assault charges went down as intoxication instead. And to give one last chance to putter aimlessly stuffing people's faces before the collapse hit - the drunken singing might have been on or off tune or key, and the laughing at the stuff he pulled was a bit unhinged.
That, and the hangover immobilized anyone from doing something too stupid the next day.
This ain't advice, this is I don't have the words to say my sympathy.
Wing and Whim- I think you've got quite the right of it, there. And when the Aqua Vite flows, so goes our sorrows, mm?
Farmgirl- This sort of thing being my specialty, I won't offer advice. Huge hugs, sure. Reminder of my contact info, absolutely. Disposal of a (currently living) body.. well, that takes a little more.
"When in hell, keep going."
-Farmboy (Now in Southern Edition!)
I think it's called grief, which is such a poor description of being assaulted by every emotion possible. Nothing prepares you for it, and nothing consoles. It's the true test of temper and strength, although the process is certainly one of the most painful to ever be experienced.
Only a little advice: Don't forget about you. You're important, especially to me (and other's, I'm sure), since I like to read your blog. It makes the world comfortable in all its hugeness.
FG,
I know what you are going thru, I had a similar loss a couple years ago. I don't think I slept more than 5 hours that week. I can't realy give you much in the way of advice, just keep busy, and know that somewhere out east a strangers heart goes out to you.
FG- I am with Peter on this one...
FG -
I won't say "hang in there, it will get better with time".
A) you already know that, but
B) it doesn't do a damn bit of good right now.
I'm truly, truly sorry for your loss.
Take care of yourself, and your loved ones.
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