7 Months

I have continued to take a partial-hiatus from social media. The times I catch myself scrolling through my Instagram or Facebook feed on Safari, I'm aware of how empty and meaningless it feels and I close the window. In the initial wake of losing Jerrod, posting or blogging about some of what I was experiencing and receiving some acknowledgment, encouragement or word of comfort in return felt helpful. And then it didn't. I suddenly felt the need to more privately sit with my grief and tend to my heart alone with the Lord. It's a journey that I will continue to walk, mostly alone, because it's mine alone to carry.

We have lived so much life in the past 7 months, more than I would have thought possible with how much we have simultaneously been mourning. There are moments when I have been so consumed with joy, singing and dancing with my children, it feels like my heart could burst.  And just as quickly there are tears streaming down my face. It is an exhausting yin and yang. My heart aches that there was a last moment of Jerrod delighting in Jackson and that there never was nor ever will a be first moment of delighting in Avery.  My heart breaks for the future he will not have and the future we have without him. I said to Bret at Christmas, “we made it through the first one without Jerrod, but it’s just that: the first; the first of the rest of every Christmas without him.” We haven’t made it through and now we’re done; we’re only just beginning.

My blogging has also decreased because the reality is that it feels impossible to regularly and accurately convey what the process of living with grief feels like; words fall short. I start to type or post something and then I stop.  Mostly I just read other people's stories and experiences of grief and loss. They are tragic and beautiful: the love that we carry and the depths of grief and pain we can survive.  While they don't fully reflect my experience, I feel connected to a community of mourners finding their way through the impossible.  And because I have also used this blog to share resources, one community I'm in the process of getting connected to is called The Dinner Party.  I'll get the opportunity to meet with other 20-30-somethings who have also experienced a significant loss.  I'm hopeful of raw and authentic conversations with other individuals who have an understanding of the weight I carry. Books are great, but people are better. I'll try to update how it goes.

how to help a grieving friend

I think previously I would have said I knew how to support someone in grief.  I went to school for psychology and social work, but there are some skills that only life can teach you, not a text book. I think in order to really sit well in someone else's grief, you need to have experienced your own.  I also previously would have said I've experienced grief. This is predominantly true given that my dad died when I was ten, but since then the bulk of my grief has been related to "heartbreak" resulting from a couple short-lived dating relationships..not really earth shattering.  I've experienced other pain related to family and friendships, but not permanent loss.

Sitting in the grief of losing my brother has felt a world of difference from losing my dad. In some ways, I don't even feel like that loss happened to me or I feel like a completely different person than than to whom that happened. This may simply be due to the fact that it's been over 2 decades and so much of the pain has been redeemed. Losing Jerrod feels completely different. In some ways I feel like I've lost a part of myself. That sounds really cliche, but maybe that's what a close death feels like or it's wrapped up in the fact that we're twins and the person I've walked every day on this earth with is no longer here.  Maybe this grief feels different because I'm an adult and my emotional intelligence is greater than my 10-year-old self who just tried to survive and cling to what I had left.  Perhaps it's also the combination of joy and pain losing Jerrod just four days after the birth of my daughter.  Not to mention all the hormones and ups and downs of caring for a newborn, but this roller coaster feels like a whole new beast to me.  In every moment of joy, it is also tinged with sadness, especially when it's a joyful moment I would have previously experienced or could picture myself experiencing with Jerrod. This most often happens when I watch anyone playing with my son because Jerrod was so playful and attentive with Jackson. One minute I'm smiling or laughing and the next I'm crying. The journey of healing from this pain feels long and daunting, so as best I can I try to cope in the present.

It's been only just over a month, but still so often I cannot fathom that he is gone; this cannot be real and often it doesn't feel real.  I keep waiting for the next time I'm going to see him because we didn't interact or see each other daily and sometimes not even weekly so the absence can feel normal.  Then something happens that I want to share with him or picture him giving Bret shit and I'm reminded that he's gone. For instance, Bret bought a new hammer and measuring tape last week and my initial reaction was to want to take a picture and send to Jerrod saying that he'd be proud of Bret's upgrade.  On so many occasions he has given us a hard time about the quality of our tools, questioning if we're even real adults or something along those lines. He had just done this the Saturday before he died when I had him hang up my "badger crossing" sign in the garage commenting that he wanted a real hammer not a toy hammer. That was quintessential Jerrod though; he'd help you with anything, but he'd have something to harass you about in the process.  My heart breaks that we'll never banter again. I know that while currently painful, these are the memories that will also make me smile and laugh as I remember him in years to come.

I initially just posted the resources below with no context, but decided to circle back to share a bit more of my own grief process and reflection of sitting in someone else's grief. I fully relate to not knowing what to do or say when someone is hurting and can fall prey to the temptation to fix. For me this doesn't stem from a lack of caring or unwillingness to sit in the pain with someone else. I've sat in plenty of pain with people, but I also know many times I have ignorantly or pridefully thought I could make it better with something I could do or say.  What is most illuminating to me as I'm mourning Jerrod is that no one can fix this or make this better for me, as much as I wish they could.  Sure there are probably things people can say that are unhelpful, but I'm not sure I could even pinpoint what those things are right now.  In the instances where that might occur, I can have grace for people not knowing what to say because I often don't know what to say to describe what I'm feeling or know what to ask for when people offer help and support.  However, I feel loved in the asking and it's a gentle reminder that the world hasn't entirely moved on without me. 

Someone shared a website with me that has some resources for those who are grieving and those who are supporting someone in their grief. These are compiled by Megan Devine, author of It's Ok That You're Not Ok. I don't agree with everything she has shared (and am a little turned off by some of the over priced products), but I appreciate some of the suggestions she gives to support a grieving friend.  I've shared the links below.  She also has a blog and a podcast that I have yet to really dive into, but have heard they are helpful.  

Refuge In Grief: How To Help A Grieving Friend

Ask Don't Tell: How To Help Someone In Grief

coping as best we can

In the days/weeks following Jerrod's death, I've searched for and immersed myself in anything grief related... anything to feel understood or to give words to the chaos of emotions I've been feeling. I just thought I'd compile some of those things for anyone who might ever need them or simply to refer back to myself.

Suffering and Sovereignty : Wrestling with God is going to be an ongoing journey. I found this reading/devotional plan shortly after Jerrod died and began reading it in the middle of the night when I was nursing Avery.  It takes you through the book of Job, Lamentations and Ecclesiastes. It's been helpful for exploring where God is in the midst of my suffering, reminding me of the truth of who God is and trying to experience him as a comforter who is grieving alongside me. There are so many answers I won't have until I see Jesus face-to-face. So many prayers can seem to go unanswered or the outcome does not align with my plea. I've prayed many prayers for Jerrod over the years and this certainly isn't the response I expected to receive.  While I don't believe God orchestrates all the pain and suffering in this world, I do know he allows it.  Why he intervenes in some situations and not in others, I will never understand. When I'm at my best, I know God can work this for his glory, but I'd rather not have lost my brother or, at the very least, not lost him to suicide.

David Kessler Training : This is an online grief course and workshop that also has a specific course for losing a loved one to suicide. I've only just begun the one specifically for suicide loss and it has 3 parts. The course is free, but I'm not sure about the others.

Surviving A Loss: losing a son to suicide : My aunt, who lost her 14-year-old son to suicide 4 years ago, shared this blog that she had found after Tanner's death.  Again, it's just nice - for lack of a better word - to know there are people out there who get what our family is going through.

Books
Currently reading:


Planning to read:
 
 





Music
I listened to this playlist on repeat after Jerrod died. In those first few days it was literally the only thing that kept me moving and the only adequate means of expressing my grief and giving me any ounce of hope. My need for God never felt so tangible and attempting to sing along in between sobs served as my cry and plea to the Lord to rescue us from this pain. If you have any other great worship song recommendations drop them in the comments section.