You see, as we've slowly slid into the holiday season and I, like many survivors of suicide (the correct term for those who have lost a loved one to a completed suicide), find myself in the depths of grief and longing once again, it didn't help that we finally closed out my "brudder's" storage unit, giving away the last of the items it contained - a shelving unit.
For a year I've been going back and forth to that space - a little haven where I was surrounded by his art, his personal belongings, his essence. Of course, many large and small bits of his 'stuff' are now in my home but it was like going to his grave (where I have yet to go since his headstone was placed) and it made me feel close.
I was his "Twisted Sister" and he was my "Brudder from Anudder Mudder" but that was what made it all so special. He was truly my best friend (even though we fought in recent years) and with our father gone as well, the convoluted combination of holidays we celebrated are no longer as cheery, silly, or fun.
This is when sadness turns into nostalgia, I guess, and that's a good thing.
I've thrown myself into Suicide Awareness and Prevention efforts, helping a wonderful, gentle man launch tours and workshops and conferences in Westchester County, New York. See www.sisfi.org. At times, I don't know if I am the organizer or the participant but my involvement helps in large and small bits, just like my brother's stuff.
I'd be lying if I said I haven't had some very dark days. I have. I want to crawl into that heavenly space where he now lives and feel his embrace, hear his deep, penetrating guffaw, and see his twinkling eyes. Kind of like searching for Santa Claus who is so real but so difficult to catch. He always slips through my fingers.
For those of you suffering physically or emotionally through this holiday season, I send you all the strength of love and prayer that I can possibly muster. In turn, please do the same for me.
|My brudder and I nearly 20 years ago.|