Grief

My brother died.

There’s no way to put it gently, it hurts all the same. He was my baby brother, the youngest of the three of us. He was a mere 24 years young. He was in a freak, one-car accident and I still can’t wrap my head around how it happened. I feel I am coming up on the acceptance part of this grief roller coaster. It still hits me in waves sometimes. I’ll see a Tiktok that I need to send to him, and it hits me. I haven’t cried over things like that in a couple days. I “talked to him” last night. I told him all the things that I had been planning to say when we went to Colorado this summer. And then I cried because he couldn’t hear me say it.

A couple days ago I had the bargaining phase of grief. I would have these split second thoughts of going back in time to save him somehow – and I totally believed that was a possibility for .3 seconds – and then it would hit me that he is just gone. I would think, maybe I could just go do CPR and he would be ok, and then I would come to my senses and realize that he is just gone. I felt really stupid when I would realize what had just crossed my mind.

The deep sadness is still here, but different. I don’t fall into a puddle of tears at the thought of him today, but I still miss him terribly. I can listen to his favorite songs now without crying, but I can’t sing along yet. I feel the weight of what life will be like without him here. I feel the black hole that is left in his absence. I don’t think that those will ever go away.

Watching my kids grieve was the worst part of all. I was so scared to tell them. The boys took it ok at first. Lots of questions, mostly morbid ones because they’re children. The girls are still too young to really understand what it all means. I took a shower that morning after telling the kids, and when I came out from the bathroom, I found Sylas on the couch, hiding inside his t-shirt, sobbing. That broke me. Ivan was handling it differently, he was moody and angry at everyone. I tried to show all the grace I could muster for all of them.

I don’t know where to go from here. I feel lost. I know that time will help, but it’s going to take a lot of time to take just the edge off.

I miss you so much Ethan. Life will never be the same without you.

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