What ifs

Trying to bury your emotions never works out so great.

I’ve never been the best at opening up and expressing verbally how I feel. I end up saying, “I don’t know” a lot…or I try to convince myself, “I’m fine” and I make it my mission to convince everyone else I’m fine too.

Then it happens.

First, it starts off with me not feeling the greatest. I mean my body literally aches, my head aches, and I get extremely tired.

I sleep, get up, go to work, busy myself with the chaos of my day to day. Then get home and sleep again. Sometimes I eat, sometimes I don’t.

That’s how it starts.

The fatigue triggers all the emotions I’ve been burying. Then, like a shaken up soda pop, I spill all over the place. Oddly, finding a momentary sense of calmness after the disruption — after the mess. Ugh!

It’s not my first rodeo! So why does it always come to this? I bottle things up instead of facing them head on? My mind believes it’s fooling my body with the “I’m fines” and the classic, “I got this”.

During my day-to-day my mind began to focus on the death of my brother. Instead of facing it, I’d push it away and busy myself with anything else. And it worked, well for approximately 20 days.

20 days ago I found out my little brother, Jeremiah died. With this profound loss instead of focusing on my pain, I chose to focus on on my sister’s pain, my older brother’s pain and foremost my mom’s pain. Naturally I wanted to fix it. Not so much fix it I guess — but just be there, to offer a word, a hug, love. It’s who I am.

A couple days ago, my grief began to surface. I cried, but it wasn’t a good, get it all out cry. It was one of those quick cries. “There” I thought, that should suffice, “I’m okay now”. Ha! Not quite Charity.

Not.

Even.

Close.

Today was a long time coming, well at least 20 days coming. I had a good, cry. You know, one of those good, ugly cries, where you can’t hold back, even if you wanted to. The kind of cry that produces hideous sobs, red noses and swollen eyes. I called my sister and cried some more.

As good as that cry felt, the truth is, I am a mess.

I’m hurt. I’m angry. I’m full of regret for not protecting my little brother. I should have been a better sister to him. I’m full of the “what ifs”. What if I would have hugged him more? What if I would have told him I loved him more? What if I would have prayed harder for him? What if? What if? What if!

Think back to the loved one you’ve lost, you must know these what ifs. There are always what ifs with loss.

As dangerous a life as my brother lived, and as much as I thought I was prepared for this news — I wasn’t. As stupid as this sounds, I didn’t know it would hurt like this.

My heart is broken.

What

if

it

never

mends?

--silence-

Father God please take this pain and mend this broken heart.