On Brokenness

I'm having one of those weeks. You know the kind where nothing seems to go your way and everything is upsetting? Those weeks. I want to say that I can't understand where all of this emotion is coming from but that's not true. Last weekend I spent time in Wisconsin with my niece and nephew. I mentioned before that their beloved, devoted, very young father passed away unexpectedly last week. I think the reality of that, even though I had only met him once and he was no longer married to my sister, hit me really hard. I don't know what it is lately but I've been increasingly aware of mortality. Not my own necessarily but just of the brevity of life in the grand scheme of things. Honestly, I have experienced the death of close loved ones more times than I want to discuss, but maybe that's the result of being exceedingly blessed with a lot of wonderful people in my life. You can't cut yourself off from people just because you are afraid that you are going to get hurt. You will. That's a fact. But I think that's one of the things that makes life so beautiful and rich. There is so much risk involved in putting yourself out there, over and over again, only to have to let go of your loved ones in the future. I have so many memories from being a kid, spending time with my mom's sister, my Aunt Janice. She was my mom's best friend. They did everything together. We shopped, they talked on the phone, we went to her house, we ate dinner together, she attended my school functions - she was as proud of me as though I was her own daughter. She never had any children of her own but she never treated me any differently. She was the first person I vividly remember to pass away in my life. She had gone for a routine surgery and developed complications. She slipped away and never recovered. I knew that next morning just by the look on my parents' faces. I remember feeling completely numb and devastated inside. Even at 11 years old I couldn't cry immediately. I just wanted to be by myself to feel it. I started listening to music for therapy at that point. There was something about other people's words that helped me start to heal. It was hard because it shouldn't have been that major to me. She was "just" my aunt. It wasn't my parent. But she was so much more to me. My whole life growing up it was like I had three mothers: my mom, my aunt, and my Gran. My dad's side of the family lived all over the country and I didn't get to see them as often. My mom's side lived all around me. They were active in my life. They practically raised me together. The pain of losing her daughter was too much for my Gran to bear. I could see in her eyes the shell of the woman that was there before she passed away. I get it. No parent ever wants to think about the possibility that their child may not outlive them. It's the worst possible scenario. So my Gran stopped living like she had before. She didn't go to church as often. She wasn't as happy as before. She and my mom were so completely heartbroken it just wasn't the same. That next year, 364 days after my aunt passed away, I found my grandmother in her upstairs bedroom. I came screaming down the stairs and told my mom that my Gran wouldn't wake up. The ambulance came to help her but it was too late. We believe she had a heart attack and died instantly. At that point, I was in shock. First my aunt, then my Gran. I couldn't believe another person in my life was gone. I became terrified that someone else was going to die. I'm pretty sure that's when my anxiety started but I never could put a finger on it until years later. Compound that with the fact that my mother's muscular dystrophy was advancing rapidly at that point. So not only was she completely distraught emotionally but she was also having a harder time physically. Her speech was becoming more difficult to understand. She was losing her balance and falling more. It was awful. But I never felt like I could really talk about it with anyone because I never wanted to burden them. That's always been a problem for me and still is - I don't want to share how I'm truly feeling because I feel that it will make other people sad. I don't want others to have to feel sad and I especially don't want anyone to ever feel sorry for me. That would be the worst possible thing for me. I've always tried to just power through the hard stuff in my life and know that either God's got this or else I do. Either by myself or with His help I'll make it through. High school was better because I had a lot of distractions and I tried to spend a lot of time away from home. I regret that now because I know I wasted a whole lot of valuable time that could have been spent with my beautiful mother. I picked a lot of fights and arguments just trying to not feel so hurt about her condition. I just wanted to be angry with her even though I knew none of it was her fault. I wanted to be angry with someone or something and I was scared to be angry with God. I thought He might smite me even more than I'd already been. I tried not to feel like anything in my life was my fault but I couldn't help but wonder what I'd done wrong to deserve all the crappiness. I was scared to death of what would become of me when my mother passed away. I didn't know how much time we had. I was angry and angsty which I know is a typical teenager thing. But I also wanted to figure out how to take care of myself and others because I knew I was going to have to one day. I tried to take care of my mother as best as I could. I know I shouldn't beat myself up when I was only a teenager but I could have done a whole lot better of a job taking care of her. But it didn't matter. My mother loved me with the fire of a thousand suns and was so proud of me her heart probably could have burst. She told me over and over how much she loved me and how proud I made her. There was never any shred of doubt about that and for that I am eternally grateful. I have some things I would love to apologize for at this point but at least I know that SHE loved ME. She thought I was worthy of love and capable of so much which sent me out into this world with a confidence I needed. Watching her decline was like the end of an era. They really do not make them like they made Sharon Lorraine. She was fierce and fearless, confident, brave. She had more common sense in her pinky than I do in my whole body. She was good with money. She took care of my dad and me financially and made it so I NEVER knew when we struggled (and we did sometimes). She protected me and shielded me from so many bad things in the world. She valued education because she never had one herself. She was tough on me but she was also one of the most generous people I've ever known. She was careful with her family's resources but she gave to other people in their time of need and always gave to her church. She instilled in me the importance of spirituality and a connection with other humans as we navigate this planet. And when she died, a huge piece of me died with her. I felt lost inside, but I felt like I had to protect my dad. He was vulnerable and fragile. They were married 32 years. That's the entire time I've been alive right now. It always felt like a lifetime and I think he thought so, too. We had to navigate the life we were left with once her disease finally took her away. But she was a fighter. She fought for herself and for her family until her very last breath. There are so many lessons I have learned about life from watching those that I love die. I never thought I would be able to verbalize what I was feeling through all of these experiences and I don't think I am far-enough removed from my dad's death to really reflect on it at this point, but I do know this. Death can be scary. It can be devastating. It can rip your heart out and throw it to the ground, smash it into a million little pieces. It can break you apart and glue you back together. But you ALWAYS have a choice in this life. You can allow the horrible things to get into the bright places of your heart and turn out all the lights. Or you can try to be stronger, reflect, learn from what has happened to you. No one's path is ever all roses. We ALL have our difficult things. It is how we choose to react that defines us. I know that. And I needed to hear myself say that today.