Anniversary of Loss

A year; it's been an entire year since Jerrod left this earth. Some days it feels like a lot longer and other moments it feels like just yesterday. It's been a shit year and a beautiful one. It's still really hard to sit with the reality of his absence and losing him in such a tragic, traumatic way. There's still plenty to process through and to let God heal. I don't have a ton of thoughts to share publicly and mostly created this post to share the above liturgy that was shared with me. Also, including a few quotes from one of the most accurate grief books I've read.

"You are alone in your grief. You alone carry the knowledge of how your grief lives in you. You alone know all the details, the subtlety and nuance of what's happened and what's been lost. You alone know how deeply your life has been changed. You alone have to face this, inside your own heart. No one can do this with you." (We are alone and we are not alone, such a weird experience.)

"Finding your middle way inside grief is about finding friendship with your own heart, making a home inside your own heart. It's in learning to bear witness to your own pain, in treating yourself like someone you love. It's about claiming your right to be in pain, without cleaning it up or making it pretty for someone else's comfort. It's about finding those who can share this path with you, who are not afraid to see your heart in all its pain and all its grace...The middle ground is always a work in progress. It's one that neither asks you to deny your pain, nor be forever engulfed by it. It's one that simply lets you find a home inside the reality of love, with all its beautiful and horrible parts."- It's Ok That You're Not Ok

"It's your life. The one you must make in the obliterated place that's now your world, where everything you used to be is simultaneously erased and omnipresent... The obliterated place is equal parts destruction and creation. The obliterated place is pitch black and bright light. It is water and parched earth. It is mud and it is manna. The real work of grief is making a home there." - Tiny Beautiful Things

Lauren Daigle reminds me so much of those early days of grief. I've connected a lot with her music today.

Thank you to anyone who has followed along this past year. The journey isn't over, but I'm not sure how much more I'll continue to share via this blog. Thank you for kind words, thoughts and prayers for me and my family. It is all truly appreciated. <3

Halloween

I'm so angry that this is the only photo I have with you in it from last Halloween and that there are so many other memories I don't have physical evidence of you being with us. I hate that I have to scour through hundreds of photos for the tiniest glimpse of you or sound of your voice in the background of a live photo. I hate that I have such little proof that you were once alive and a part of our lives. I know all the pictures in the world wouldn't make it any easier to have lost you, but at least I would be less likely to forget all the moments you were a part of.  I don't really even care that much about Halloween, but you were a part of our first Halloween in our new house and I know you would've been with us again this year. I'm so angry that you won't be.

Open up and let the light in

We’re breaking all the rules this morning: sleeping in bed with mom and on our stomach. I don’t even care. This isn’t a post about co-sleeping. I know people do it and I don’t actually think it’s wrong. I’m just a rule follower and I never wanted kids in my bed. But we are surviving until we’re thriving (AND WE WILL THRIVE) so the occasional co-sleeping it is.

Staring at this face this morning, I just started weeping because life is beautiful and love brings so much joy even when it’s hard. Right now, in these moments, my heart aches that my brother didn’t feel it or at least not enough of it. He would have made a great father. Maybe he never would have had kids, but now he will never have a moment like this. And even if he never had kids, he will never hold mine again or for the first time. This baby girl won’t know the loving arms of her uncle. It’s a loss she won’t even know she has (besides factually), but I know and I grieve for her, too.

My friend Kristen sent me this post this morning. I don’t know Rachel, but her account is public, so I’m hoping she won’t mind that I’m sharing this here. Her words are beautiful and they speak to my heart. During or after I write each of these posts, I feel the light creeping in and there is peace. My heart is not wrecked all day long, and I know that’s in part due to allowing myself to feel the pain when needed and letting the Lord fill those dark spaces with his light and love.

What has started as a huge gaping hole will shrink as I grieve and heal over time. Sometimes that’s hard to reconcile because it feels like moving on and letting go of my brother, and I desperately don’t want to lose any more of him. So I have to remind myself that it’s not my pain or sorrow that keeps his memory alive, but simply the love that I carry for him in my heart and nothing can take that away.

i need somewhere to put my grief

Today marks a month of my twin brother's tragic passing.  In so many moments it still does not feel real to me. I'm re-entering the blog world to have a space to unleash the pain in my heart and the thoughts in my head.  There are so many conversations I will never have with Jerrod, so I may have them here instead.

The last communication we had with you was a month ago yesterday.  We sent you this video of Jackson riding his birthday gift from you.

You spent so much time and thought into choosing what vehicle to get Jackson, texting different options to both Bret and Cody....finally deciding on the Mickey speedster. You missed Jackson's birthday and had no way of knowing that this was what we had put on Jackson's birthday cake.  It feels like an intuitive gift.  We joked that you should have charged it before giving it to Jackson because it required charging for 24 hours, so you never actually got to see him ride it.  Once we figured out how to charge it, Jackson was a bit afraid of it.  The last message Bret sent you was the video of Jackson actually riding around on it and telling you "thanks Uncle Jerrod."  I don't know if Jackson has said "Uncle Jerrod" since you died and it breaks my heart that this will continue to decrease in frequency as you slowly fade from his world.  I don't know how to keep you alive in his memory when he cannot comprehend death. So when he asks who got him the Mickey car, I simply say "Uncle Jerrod" and I hope he doesn't ask any follow up questions; at least not yet.

Brother, we miss you daily.  There are so many questions and things we'll never understand. I just keep recalling the joy you had with Jackson and I struggle to reconcile it with the pain that must've been brewing underneath. I know you don't feel it anymore and I pray ours lessens by the day so we can simply remember you with a smile on our face; that same infamous smile everyone loved of yours.