It's now been over 1 year since my nephew passed away. I find that hard to believe.
Around the Christmas holidays it hit me that he was gone. Of course, I had gone through the usual grieving process when he initially died, but I immediately went into protection mode after that. I felt the need to make sure my brother and his wife were ok. I felt the need to make sure my parents were ok. I felt the need to make sure my children were ok. I felt the need to make sure my children (especially his buddy, Andrew) understood what was going on as best they could and as much as they needed to. But it was when Thanksgiving was just around the corner that I was struck very hard by my grief. I no longer could hide behind my empathy for others. It was now my turn to ache and cry and ... well, run away.
I went to my doctor after the Thanksgiving holiday and he diagnosed me with grief, not depression. A relief, yes. But each question he asked me in making my diagnosis I answered in my head for my brother ... when I answered no; I knew in my mind that the answer was yes for my brother. But what could I do?
Christmas came and went. It wasn't any easier. I just wanted to make it easier for my brother and his family, of course, but I didn't know how. I still don't. That's been my problem since the first phone call came about this whole terrible thing. How can I make their lives easier? How can I try to understand how they get up and go about living and use that to make their lives a little easier? It's impossible. Every time I would read of something like this happening to some other family, I would think in my mind that this type of family tragedy would define me as a person. I guess I should have hoped to never really find that out on such a personal level. I always hoped that I would rise to the occasion and be as strong in tragedy as I am in triumph. I now have to say that I don't believe that's been the case. I am a completely different person now. I have lost "friends" because of who I have now become. Of course, I wonder if they were "friends" to begin with if they were so quick to run away.
I am amazed every day at what my brother, his wife, and their daughter do. I can't imagine I would be able to move out of bed on any given day (there are some days that I struggle myself, and it was my nephew. My child? Forget it). They are able to get out of the house and function on any level - and succeed. And that amazes me. And inspires me.
I have found that as the time has passed since Christopher's death, some people have wondered how it is I can still be so sad about his being gone. And though I feel a little better each day (I am now able to look at some pictures and smile rather than cry), I am saddened by the fact that so much time has passed. I have a terrible fear that he'll be forgotten. I don't want anyone to ever forget him. I don't want my children to forget him. I don't want my friends to ever forget about him. I don't want to ever forget him. It's understood that memories will fade. But the time that passes concerns me that one day he will be forgotten. And that hurts my heart. "It's been a whole year already?!?!" Yes. It's been an entire year. Yes. Time has flown. Yes. It's hard to believe. No. It hasn't really gotten any easier. When I traveled to West Africa, it became clear to me that life and death were handled much differently there. Death was just a factor in life. You understood that you lived to die. And though, yes, there was mourning once a loved one died, it was understood that it was just how it worked. And you move on.
I'm not ready to move on. I'm not ready to pretend to be happy about everything. I don't want to spend my life grieving. But I don't want to one day wake up and not think about that little man. Not smile when in my mind I see his smile or think about his pants falling off his non-existent bottom. Or think about his scraggly hair. Or his shoes that were always too big. Or his big heart. Because it was big. So. Damn. Big.
Sometimes when I'm sad it's because so much time has passed. And I know that can be a good thing. I just don't want him to ever fade away in any one's mind. He doesn't deserve that.
