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Death is a Tricky Thing

September 10th, 2022

It's hard to fathom that it has been over a year since I have written anything. I seemed to have lost the ability to dream. To create. To get through just one day. I have to force myself to push through everything. The beginning of my days have gotten easier if that is even the correct word to use. More like my body is on autopilot and I find that the sobbing has subsided for the most part. Now there is just an empty void. A hollow shell that continues to exist. My days filled with activity but I swirl in a dark world internally. Most people view me and assume that I have "gotten over" the death of my siblings. It makes me wonder. Have they ever lost someone significant in their life? Probably not, if they think you ever get over a death.

That is where death gets tricky. Death is death. It's that simple. At least for those who die. We are born and we die. It's those of us who remain on this earth after someone we love and care about dies that has to live. But, how do we define living? Everything I know has changed. Holidays, birthdays, or any other significant point of time when family and friends gather together is no longer the same. The space in the home may be filled with others that you love and care about but you really only see the void of the person you lost. At least, that is how it is for me. It's not that I don't love the other members of my family, because I do, so much. I hug them as if tomorrow wasn't coming. When they speak I hang onto their every word trying to brand it into my brain for fear that they will be taken from my life too.

I no longer identify to the calendar for the days of the week. For me, there is a good day, a day, a bad day, and no day. And each day comes with so many emotions that it overwhelms me. A good day means that I could genuinely smile about something, while the shadows linger at the edge of my brain. A day, means that I was neither happy nor sad, I merely existed. A bad day means that I found it hard not to keep the memory of Bobby and Sherri's death out of my head, no matter how hard I tried to occupy my mind. A no day, well, that's a day where I wake up gasping for air. The entire day spent flailing around in life trying not to drown in my own sorrow. How often do the no days happen? I don't know. In the beginning, after my brothers death, I couldn't even begin to tell you. I had to take care of my parents, which looking back on is all a blur. I don't know how I did it, but I did.

Have I gotten any better? Has the pain eased? Have I found happiness again? No. I don't believe we ever get better. As far as happiness goes, it's there if I allow it. Happiness is all around me. It never left. I just needed to learn that I'm allowed to feel it. I'm allowed to live. I'm not betraying them by laughing. I'm not forgetting about them if I go one day without crying. I'm not a horrible person if I go on and live my life. That's what they would want. That's the hard pill to swallow. How can I enjoy this life God has given me when two of the most valuable puzzle pieces of my life have been lost? And so, that is the battle I have been enduring this past year.

So, why pick up and blog again? Well, if I don't force myself to do something it will never get done. I must try to keep the no day away, and in order to do that, I must force my brain to think about something else. And, I miss blogging. I miss writing. I miss the old me, but the realization is there, that I will never see her again. I must create a new me. Until I blog again ......SrS

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