Bubba.

So I've been debating about writing this post for awhile now. Part of me feels as though it's inappropriate for me to talk about my brother and his passing in such a public, superficial space. Another large part realizes that there is so much more to life than bridal showers and home improvement projects and that I should probably start acknowledging it.  I guess I'm finally talking because I've been inspired. Inspired by anger. Inspired by confusion. And inspired by compassion.

Sibling love.

What first got me opening up was the frustration and anger I felt on Memorial Day. Yes, my brother was an active serviceman when he passed, but that's not why I had a tough day. In fact, the whole Memorial weekend was fairly uneventful and mostly just consisted of drinking margaritas and shopping around with my momma. Rather, it was the fact that the local news that evening chose to run a story on my brother's passing without my family's knowledge or consent. A sort of human interest story on a vet who had passed. While the details of how and why this story came to end up on the news is no longer important, it did teach me a valuable lesson. It made me realize that the reason why I was so upset was that a stranger was telling my family's story and that I could fix the situation, not by getting angry, but rather by taking the responsibility to tell it myself. Pretending like his death didn't happen and not acknowledging this fact out loud doesn't change a single thing and I'm not winning any dignified points by navigating this craziness privately. So here it goes.

Bubba and I at my high school graduation.

 It's been 5 and a half months since my brother's passing and the strongest emotion that I currently feel is confused. Not confused as to how or why he died. I think I've accepted that. Just confused as to the appropriate way to deal with all of this. Sometimes I feel like I'm handling this all a little too well and that I'm coming across as callous. Other times I feel like it's my job to hold it together and be strong and that any deviation from that is selfish and indulgent. But most of the time, I have no idea what to feel. Grief is something that looks and feels different every day and you are constantly having to reassess how to cope and carry it with you. I guess what I have taken away so far is that losing a close family member is bigger, deeper, and more profound than any of us could ever understand and that I will probably spend the rest of my life reevaluating how it has changed me. 

All gown up.

 Finally, I'm compelled to share because of the outpouring of love and support I have received. So many people have come to me with their own stories of loss and I am totally blown away. At first I feel awful that I never knew about this tragedy in their life, but then I'm amazed by the fact that they survived it. I might not be able to see all the little broken bits inside that they are still trying to reassemble, just like me. However, because of that, I can see that they haven't let loss dictate their lives and I am beginning to see that it's OK to not let it. In fact, you almost can't if you want to get up out of bed everyday and keep enjoying life. In the end, I guess it is something that I will have to walk with everyday, but at least I'm still walking.

My special place for Bubba.