Brandon’s 39th Birthday

Today is Brandon’s birthday. He would have been 39 this year. 

It’s crazy how at certain times the tears just fall. I can live life, think of him (every day), and keep on keeping on. 

Then days like today the tears just fall.  And as they do I realize that it still hurts the same as it did every year prior.  I do not miss him any less. I don’t think I ever will.  

It’s just crazy to me that now it’s a somewhat comforting thing. 

I think we are so afraid that we are going to forget or that they will be forgotten. And as time goes on the time between tears gradually gets longer and longer. The routines of day to day life become the focus. The days are long but the years are short. And suddenly it’s been almost 6 years since I held his hand. It feels so far away. Like another life all together. I have to remind myself of the life I had before that looks so different from the life I have now. And I get scared that I’m going to leave him behind because each year it seems details become a little less vivid.

Of course I know that I will never forget him, and I also know that it wouldn’t be healthy to try to carry all of him with me.  But there are times I have to search my mind to remember something - like what size and brand of jeans he wore, and that hurts. 

The reality is that time takes things from us. And it wouldn’t be a healthy life if I spent all my energy trying to carry the past with me, and missing out on what the present needs from me. And yet, even when we can rationalize these thoughts - It. Doesn’t. Make. Them. Hurt. Less. 

But it does give the feelings space to be what they are. I work hard not to dismiss them, and just let them be felt. And it never ceases to surprise me how quickly and intensely the tears come when I sit in reflection on days like today. 

I’m in a place in life where I can embrace these moments, not run from them. It brings me a strange comfort to see how my soul remembers so perfectly. Because love does not die. And though I can live my life without Brandon, my life will never be without him. 

14th Wedding Anniversary

Today would have been Brandon and my 14 year wedding anniversary. Instead it’s my 5th anniversary without him.  

It’s so very strange. It feels like the distance between he and I has grown so much more this 5th year.  And as always it’s bittersweet. With the distance of time comes healing of wounds and the ability to incorporate loss into the actual living of life.  But with it also comes the searching to remember the little things and the pain of trying to remember his voice. 

Yet some things have not changed with this distance.

Speaking of my love for him never comes without a cracked voice and tears, no matter how hard I try to hold it back. And if you know me well you know that I am expressive, passionate and temperamental in nearly every emotion...but sadness. Sadness is deeply personal and private to me, and yet I can’t hide the effects of this sadness when the feelings rush to be felt.

Brandon’s legacy and the effect he had, correction...has on me has not changed. I am still inspired by his influence on my life. I have struggled greatly navigating these past 5 years. And so much of it was the loss of a sense of self. The first few years I concentrated on working through my grief, and I worked ALL THE THINGS.  Counseling, Grief Share, support groups, books, podcasts, creating and facilitating a young and widowed group (still going strong and serving so many!), grief yoga, EMDR...you name it I likely tried it. And it all helped and would have been all the things Brandon, as a psychologist, would have encouraged a grieving widow to do. More recently I found a place in myself to examine myself, not my grief. In January God lead me to a class/group essentially about ownership of self. Really examining the depths of ourselves and owning who we are and challenging ourself to grow in knowledge of and confidence in oneself. This 18 week class and a weekend retreat has all been put on hold at the moment due to COVID-19, but what a breath of fresh air to step outside my situation, my grief, and see myself individually. Remember who I am, not who I’ve become through loss.  And I know Brandon would be elated that I’m on this path now.

I never would have thought this journey would be like this. I think we hope that one day we will not “be sad” anymore, but for many (dare I say most) of us that is an impossibility. We can’t just wake up some morning and be “over it” or “ready to move on”.  I will never be over the loss of Brandon. And we like to say we are “moving forward”, not moving on, because moving on suggests leaving something behind. This is not something I can leave behind, I carry it with me every day. And I can still say not a single day has passed that I have not thought of him. And I’m ok with that - because the majority are things don’t make me cry because it’s over, but instead make me smile because it happened.

I will always treasure the choice I made to marry Brandon 14 years ago today. And I will always remember the way that decision changed my life forever, for better or for worse.  

And today I dedicate this song to my Brandon:

https://youtu.be/U6oJODFyprM

Lyrics:

One, two, three

And you've gone so far

Far from me

As I fall apart

If I had known the way I'd feel

Right from the start

I wouldn't change anything

But my broken heart

Four, five, six

This is killing me

What I miss most

Is everything

If I had known the way I'd feel

Right from the start

I wouldn't change anything

But my broken heart

I didn't know

Watching you go

Would ever be this hard

I close my eyes

And be by your side

Wondering where you are

If I had known then what I know

Now right from the start

I wouldn't change anything

But my broken heart

One, two, three

And you've gone so far

Far from me

Like the morning stars

If I had known the way I'd feel

Right from the start

I wouldn't change anything

But my broken heart

I wouldn't change anything

But my broken heart

5 year Angelversary

12:15pm passes. It’s officially been 5 years. I take a break from work and sit outside reflecting. 

This one feels big. 5 years is one of those milestones seemingly different than 2,3 & 4 years. As momentous as 1 year, but in a different way. 

1 year was acknowledging pure survival. One full cycle through this new life. 5 years is acknowledging this significant passing of time and many cycles through this new life.

I look for visual cues of the time passed. The back yard is so different from when we all sat on the deck that evening 5 years ago.  The wall between the kitchen and living room where we whispered grim updates is gone.  But the greatest reminder of the time gone by is Aria. A newborn then, and now a 5 year old. Only 10 weeks of difference between the life changing events of birth and death. 

I’m still not sure how this grieving thing goes. I can honestly say that not a single day has gone by in 5 years that I have not thought of Brandon. I don’t speak of him every day, but I am reminded of him every day. 

I miss him just as much as I did 5 years ago and the depth at which it hurts is the same then and now. But yet it’s very different.

Shock, fear, anger and disorientation all accompanied that pain then.  It was nearly constant and all consuming.  Now acceptance and normalization bring some sweet relief when I visit my pain. I’m reminded of how far I’ve come and how I’ve incorporated this loss into life, and no longer  desperately battling to bring back life into loss. 

It hurts as deeply and intensely as it did then, but I have more strength to hold it now and it’s more familiar now. I know I can set it down when I need to and sit with it without fear when I need to.  I’ve even come to take some comfort in my grief, that despite the years accumulating my soul has not forgotten him and still aches just the same over the loss of him.

I do have to work harder to retrieve memories and remember his favorite things and his little quirks. It used to be so familiar.  But as time passes some things fade. And that’s hard.

But I never need to dive deep to remember how he loved me. I still feel it today, and that’s truly eye opening to me.  How  impactful how we make others feel really is.  

Friends still cry with me, or tear up or voices crack when remembering Brandon. Sorry, not sorry, but it’s incredibly comforting to me to experience those moments. It lets me know the depth at which he touched so many and the love that so many have for him.

I can finally say I don’t identify myself first as a widow. I am widowed, and will always be. Being in another relationship or married will never undo my experience. But it’s not my greatest identity anymore I think because the effects of being widowed do not consume the majority of my life anymore.  Thank goodness for that. 

I often wonder what 10 years will be like. I wonder if 5 years from now I’ll be sitting in this backyard reflecting as I have for so many years now.  I imagine so - but one thing I’ve learned is that life takes crazy turns, and whether I’m sitting here or somewhere else, this day will always hold so much weight I know I will never forget.

4th Celebration of Life

 

Post from my Social Media on Brandon’s Birthday.

I add this now because I intend to use this blog to help Aria understand when she is older. 

Today is Brandon’s birthday. He would have been 38 this year.  

This picture was taken on his last earthly birthday hours after getting released from the hospital, only to go right back just after this picture. 

With all the happy memories on this day from the years prior, and the friends and family gathering each year since, this memory still is strongest to this day. 

Just last year I finally threw away the bag of birthday decorations that had welcomed him home only to be removed with sadness and shoved in a bag that sat in my basement collecting dust and tears each time I saw it.  I don’t want this day to bring sadness, but it does. 

In years passed I’ve tried to embrace the “celebration” of his life without allowing the balance of the sadness of the loss of his life, which only lead me to a lot of unrest with my feelings. But I now know I need to be able to hold space for both, or actually all of the feelings on these trigger days. Sadness, anger, resentment, guilt, pity, nostalgia, gratitude, love...and so many more contradictory emotions. 

Today is a day to remember Brandon, and all that came with his presence in this world. All the memories that bring a smile from his bantering, that bring gratitude from his words of wisdom and insight, that bring a chuckle and an eye roll remembering his love of sports, guns and video games. 

But also the memories of the struggle, the sacrifice, and the pain that he and we all have endured in this loss, that should awaken us to live fully and treasure our loved ones deeply because we have experienced what it is to loose. 

In honor of Brandon today, tell someone how important they are to you. Really tell them. Those words will live on forever. And celebrate the impact that he made in your life with a bittersweet mix of emotions. 

Later that evening:

This. Just this. This is what life is about. Community. We don’t see each other often these days, with kids, careers, activities, proximity. But we did life together deeply and authentically, making it easy to pick up where we left off.  A part of Brandon is woven through each of us, and I am so incredibly grateful for this evening and these people. (And all of you who couldn’t make it too, I know you’d be here if you could have.) Thank you all for continuing to honor Brandon’s memory.  I am so uplifted by you all. 💜

5 years since recurrence

5 years ago today we found out the devastating news that just days before our daughter was due to be born the cancer was back.  I don’t think I’ll ever forget the image of walking into our bedroom to find Brandon on his knees at the side of the bed talking to the doctor. It’s one of those moments that is forever burned into one’s memory, along with these stupid trigger dates. There’s no way to fight the tears and feels that bring you back to that exact moment when your life was forever changed, and 5 years later I wonder if that will ever lighten. 

We had yet to know how aggressive it was; 5 years ago. We held onto blind hope. Hope for 5 more years before it would take his life. But it was only 12 short and awful weeks. 

5 years marks a new kind of milestone in the grieving community. It’s challenging. We feel we should be “over it” but that just will never be the case. I don’t want to feel the pain of loss, but I also don’t ever want it not to hurt because what would that mean? 

I feel like 5 years ago was a whole lifetime ago, and not even my own life. I often have to take a moment to reflect on what I have endured, and what I persevered through, gracefully or not. 

I continue to have flashbacks of traumatic moments from this exact moment 5 years ago; and all the utterly deveatating moments that incurred over the following 12 weeks. They still take my breath away and hurt so deep.

It’s bittersweet. I can’t think of any other way to describe it. Bitter in the loss, pain and trauma that had to be endured. But sweet because it wouldnt continue to hurt so much if I hadn't shared a love so deep and true. Love is a commitment more than anything else. It is a selfless action and choice, and for that reason on days like today I take a moment to remember and honor the love I shared and commitment I made, til death do us part...and forever after that apparently. 

Ultimately I’m grateful for where I am now, 5 years later. Aria’s needs have always been my priority, amongst balancing the need for self care so I can be the best mom I could possibly be.  I haven’t done it perfectly, but I think Brandon would know my heart has always been in the right place.  

The next 12 weeks, as a seasoned griever I now know, will bring many moments of pain. It hurts differently now though. It’s not as “active” and “overwhelming”. It’s more “reflective”. I can continue on with life in the midst of these moments, and not be debilitated in the aftermath.

Grief never goes away it just transforms. It adapts to you and you adapt to it. And I think that’s the best we can do with it. We all want to get rid of it, but we can’t. So we adapt to it and move forward with it.