10 years of grieving and sibling loss

I originally wrote this post on Friday, 9 May 2014. I was just 24 years old and was deep in the pit of grief and loss. My brother, Wesley, had passed away just months beforehand. I want to give this space on my blog because I think it’s beautifully raw, and many of the feelings are still fresh to this day.

My brother was my first friend. Beautiful circumstance saw that I was bound to him from birth. There existed an unexplained connection between us that could never be replaced, and a bond, which still today, cannot be broken.

On the 26 October 2013, everything changed. My brother died. I had never known life without him by my side. I was thrust without warning into a new reality. It was a devastating reality that I was not, and never would be, prepared for.

I lost my best friend. I lost a piece of me.

Through support and strength, I was able to stand up at his funeral and honour him the best way I knew how. I delivered his testimony and a speech that respected his legacy.

But as the months passed, the hype died just as quickly as it had started.

I distracted myself. I went out often. I tried not to think. It was my way of coping. People’s words cut through me.  “Why are you still sad?” “Just roll with the punches”. “You will get over it”. I try my utmost not to dwell on this, after all, they cannot understand.

I can’t expect them to. It’s beyond their depth.

You see, I don’t have the luxury of moving forward. I don’t get the satisfaction of drawing a line in the sand and moving on. I don’t get to start a new chapter, where my old life will one day be just a distant memory. I will never get another brother. My parents will never get another son. This is, and forever will be, my life. And it will never be the same again.

I will never laugh wholeheartedly.  I will never love completely.  I will never fully be free.

I say this because every emotion I will ever feel again will in some way be accompanied by grief.

Graduation will be bittersweet because he will not cheer me on as I receive my master’s degree. My wedding day will be painful because he will not be there to see me walk down the aisle. Christmas and Easter will always hurt because his absence will be so greatly felt. Our shared birthday will forever be a day I dread.

I will never get over it. Time will not heal. This too shall not pass.

Do not get me wrong. I will run with pride, I will leap for joy, I will dance with grace and I will act with passion. But I will do so with a limp. My loss is too great and my pain is too real. It will never go away. The reality is that I will be forever scarred.

I don’t want sympathy and I definitely don’t want pity. I want to be accepted and loved through both the good days and the bad. I just want to be.

I have learnt a lot from this experience. I have been hurt by the insensitive and disrespectful actions of others. I have been stunned at how quickly people move on. I have been bruised by countless opinions. But I have also seen the fragility of life. I know what to appreciate. I know who to hold on to. I also know who to let go of. Ultimately, I have learnt that this grief is too huge to carry alone. Only God can heal me. If this is the only lesson I learn from here on out, I am grateful because it’s the only one that matters.

My brother did not let his illness define him, and therefore, I will not let his death define me. I will continue living my life the best way I know how. I have acknowledged that it will not be easy. It can’t be, because I will never be the person I was before. Even though I aim to live each day for him – until I am united with him in eternity – I will always feel pain. It will be forever etched in my heart.

This is my journey. I can’t postpone it. I can’t walk around it. I need to walk through it. I am vulnerable and I am broken, but no matter how difficult it may be… I choose life and I accept the challenges I am faced.