Less than a year before Bruce passed, we were at his family reunion in Michigan when word came that one of his cousins had just died from a gunshot wound. From what I remember, it was an accident. Nothing malicious… but that didn’t make it any easier on anyone there.
I don’t remember ever meeting this cousin nor do I remember Bruce ever talking about him. However, I will always remember how shook-up Bruce was. He was a quiet person anyway, and this news left him pulling deep within himself. In fact, I don’t think he said more than a handful of words for the rest of the trip.
He tried to talk about it a couple of times, but he just couldn’t… Talking would mean letting go… losing control… and he wasn’t going to do that in front of anyone. Months later, when he was ready, he finally talked about how it had felt hearing the news and seeing all of the pain around him. He shared some memories about his cousin. He talked about how his grief was deeper than he would have expected. That death hit him hard and he struggled with it for the few months he had left.
I admit that I didn’t really understand his grief at that point, because it was something I had not experienced. However, I had compassion for his pain… I could be extra kind and caring on the harder days… I could listen when he needed to talk… In other words, it wasn’t my pain, but I could still hold space with and for Bruce as he processed his grief for someone he loved who had died way too young.
Then, Bruce died… And I certainly received my own lessons on grief and pain and all that goes with losing someone you love way too soon. (You know that… that is what I usually write about here.)
This week, I lost one of my cousins. He was younger than me by several years, but I still have lots of memories with him growing up. When he and his sister were really little, they came and lived with us for a summer due to their mother recovering from some health issues. Then when I was older, I would spend my summers in Charleston, bouncing between my grandparents’ and my cousins’ homes. There were only a few of us cousins, but there were plenty of shenanigans and precious memories made.
As adults, we stayed in touch for a long time. We used to have an annual “Cousin Reunion” and there were phone calls a few times a year just to catch up on life. Then somehow, life got crazier and all of that seemed to slowly fade.
We still spoke when we saw each other, but that was usually at a family funeral every few years. Over time, I have watched my cousins’ kids grow up via Facebook and somehow convinced myself that was enough… It wasn’t.
And I figured it out this week, when I got the message of his death. I knew immediately that despite all of my talk here about life being precious… about spending time with those you love… and telling them… I have dropped that ball… and I regret that so much.
This week, there have been a lot of conversations between the cousins. This is our wake-up call… This is our time to rally around our cousin (his sister) and just be there… This is the time for all of us to come back together and create new memories. This is also our time to get reacquainted with each other and each other’s families.
I have also been in touch with my cousin’s daughter this week. She is an amazing woman. She has been kind and gracious, despite the pain I know she must be experiencing. She has been on my heart all week. I don’t know what it is like to lose a parent. (Mine are still alive and we talk almost daily.) However, I do know how hard it is to lose someone you love.
Personally, I think one of the hardest parts about losing someone is saying “goodbye”. For most of us, you don’t get the chance to say it before they die… especially when they die unexpectedly and/or too young. Instead, you are stuck trying to figure out how to say it afterward… (Or, like me… maybe it is still something you are working on years later.)
What I do know is this… Death is awful. Each journey is different – the pain and the grief are as individual as fingerprints. Right now, my cousin is being grieved by his four children, his sister, his extended family, and his friends… and for each of us that feels a little bit different. For all of us, the world is spinning just a little bit slower without him this week.
To his children and his sister, I am so sorry for your loss and your pain. I wish there were words that I could write here that would make this journey a little bit easier… but there aren’t. All I can do is love you… and I do.
Just sit there right now
Don’t do a thing
Just rest
For your separation from God
Is the hardest work in this world
Let me bring you trays of food
And something
That you like to drink
You can use my soft words
As a cushion
For your
Head
~ Hafiz
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Grief is a daily challenge that changes us in ways we could never foresee, making this journey a difficult path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone.
I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. Learning to take it one day/moment at a time is all any of us can do.
Thankfully, I know I am not alone… None of us are… We have each other. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone.
Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*
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