A Village of One

I miss my brother. And even now, when I think it or say it or write it, the character count and the space between the sentiment...doesn't suffice. When I tell him I miss you so much, Charley it falls heavy into nothing air and I plead that he is listening. I pray that I'm not talking to myself and I hope that he misses me too. His face or laughter would make my insides settle and smile. I don't feel smiley inside anymore. 

It's been my intention for quite some time to share my love for the village lovingly created by my brother's loss. There've been countless new experiences, new friends, pleasant surprises, rekindled relationships, unexpected encounters and in-my-face realities that are all consequences of his passing. In short, SO much is occurring because he took his life and left us all to fend for him, for one another and for each other.

Still, I miss him because he's gone. And if he weren't gone, I wouldn't have a village whom I love and loves me in return. It's amazing what a people can accomplish when their genuine intent generates love and support. Real support. Not the empty promises of  "I'll come by" or "call me if you need anything" only for these individuals not to follow through. Because if you're like me, I have faith in word and I have faith in people. I trust and am open. If someone disappoints me when I'm truly looking to them during a moment of grief, it hurts. I suppose I hurt myself for having expectations but what sort of friend or family would I be if I didn't meet others' expectations? Reciprocation.

Receiving love and support has surprised me. In so much that my faith in people is strengthened. I never knew I could be so loved and nurtured. I never knew people, my friends, some family and distant friends cared so much about my pain. It's as though the pain of losing my brother created/s a pain for them, too, even though they either didn't know him or didn't know him as well. But they feel it. And they feel my pain. This is wondrous for me, it really is.

When Charley passed away, I naturally looked for him for comfort, and to be told by only him that he would never leave my side and get me through the darkest phase of my life. My soul reflexed for him and he so obviously couldn't take my hands and assure me that he would hold me up. But before I could corner myself into solace and isolation, a village of his friends and my loving web of friends came in and held hands so I could turn in any direction and see an empathetic, sympathetic, I love you face holding tough and holding me. Now my web of love consists of his friends who deeply love him, friends of mine who have bonded even more closely with me regardless of the frequency of my pain and their own fear of loss, and family who hug me with their eyes and sweetly kiss me. Who knows how long this emotional support will last, but I am grateful. I feel secure and padded into space reserved only for me with absolutely no judgment placed on me or Charley.Even if it were one person, a handful of people or someone I barely know, I'd be thankful just the same.
Blessed. There's no secret to getting through grief and loss and tragedy. But there is someone who cares for you and wants to be the person you call in the middle of the night. Choose someone, choose a web and get tangled in it. You'll be glad you did.

What Goes Up, Sometimes Comes Down

Can you imagine how difficult it would be to always be up, high as the clouds, hanging on so you don't fall? Sounds terrific, huh?
Do you know anyone whom when you ask how they're doing, they're "great" ALL the time?

This is where I am currently in managing the loss of my brother: I'm okay most days but I caution myself (and others) that I'm not permanently okay. Some honestly think, "Phew. she's OKAY", in which I see the expression on their faces elated with relief and happy for me. This is not the case. Charley just passed away. Charley just called me last night. I just saw Charley this morning. I smell his beautiful scent, still.
I'm expected to have bad days. In fact, I allow myself to have bad days just as I did a couple days agowhen I made a significant move in my personal life which rattled my spirit and yearned for my big brother to soothingly speak to me and hold me tightly. Instead, I washed his truck and for the first time since he passed, I slowly explored the insides of his car. Receipts, random papers, a first aid kit, photos, old school Hip Hop CD's littered the pockets of his car. But the most difficult and sentimental find was in his glove compartment where birthday cards I'd given him lay neatly and quietly. I opened each one with a delicate touch and sobbed until my vision blurred and my entire insides ached. Lifeless like a doll on a shelf, my thoughts scoured my memory for stability in the reality that is now mine. Holding the loving words I'd written to him, I felt defeated. It was clear to me that no matter how much I love him, support him, live for us, I couldn't prevent him from taking his life. In this card alone, I expressed my unconditional love, the joy of growing together and growing old together. I counted on growing old together. I counted on having my best friend my whole life. We're both healthy, we both take care of ourselves, we're both driven. NEVER would've thought that mental health would take one of us, and almost both of us. I sat and cried over all the birthdays we wouldn't have together anymore. No more cards from him expressing his love for me. No more smiles over the glow of dozens of candles. No more.

I spent the rest of the day crying uncontrollably as I balled up his dirty workout clothes from his truck and held them to my face and chest in an effort to hold him. I. could. not. stop. crying. I watered the front yard and my neighbor walked up and opened his arms to me. I dove in and exhaled all the pain I could in that moment. I miss him so much. He rubbed my back and encouraged me to cry. I so obviously needed to be embraced.

We have triggers which evoke happy thoughts and happy feelings and we have bad, bad, hurtful feelings. Truth is, we don't need to lose someone to have triggers, but most often triggers are a consequence of loss- many types of loss. And I've always encouraged such relief and dispel of emotion. It doesn't matter if it's been months or even years because grief never goes away nor does the pain of loss. My brother and I shared 32 years together- it's the longest, most consistent, incredibly loving relationship I've ever had. No one will trump him or us, but I have faith in love. Love lasts.

Life Isn't A Rat Race

We wake up and move pretty quickly with our mental to-do lists and our feet hitting the cold floor. Our moves are in-motion as is our hearts as they keep us alive for further life and encouragement. And we spend so much of our time with a desire to be better, get better, live longer, live better.
I've slowed down dramatically while keeping my thoughts hungry and open. My mind feels weightless sometimes, especially when I block myself of all things hurt and make my way to my cove of self. Could it be selfish that I've made a decision to put my mind and heart before that of my daughter's? Sure. My Dad has gotten on my case for not acting more aware, although I can argue that I've never been more awake as I am now. I'm aware that the behavior I exemplify and the actions I gesture both in front of and away from her make me a more influential mother for her childhood experiences. She is first. Her life is first although my mind crosses finish before she does. I'm lunges ahead of her so that I am strong enough to have adult conversations about my grief and why her Nino is dead. Dead. A term she doesn't yet fully understand though she asked me just yesterday as we placed fresh flowers on his grave site,
"Why are we giving Nino flowers?".
Hmmmm. What to say, what to say. The truth. 
"We bring Nino flowers because we honor him with the beauty of life. We miss him, we love him, and when you care about someone, you extend a gesture to communicate so. It's like when Mommy gives you tight hugs for no reason. I squeeze you with all my love so that you feel it. We squeeze Nino with flowers sometimes".
No "why?" followed but she understood, I think. I hope.

This is an example of slowing down to ensure that what I'm speaking into this life is true and intentional. So that someday everything I extend, both verbally and physically, is almost effortless, second nature.
I'm thriving on a conscious level I've never experienced, and existing so in ways I can't fully comprehend just yet. I'm cognizant of other people's circumstances and realities, providing reactions and replies that only feed our spirits. This doesn't mean I'm walking on eggshells or treading water all the time, instead it means that while I naturally get angry or hurt or wish to express myself, I'm doing it with firm tenderness and honesty; honesty in my intentions with the present in mind and not the far-fetched future. Hey, I'm no preacher and full of myself, but I can say that losing my brother is teaching me to be my best everyday without trying to please everyone. I MUST try not rescue myself so much and maybe, just maybe, I can inspire myself via my own mouthful of words and wisdom. Hopefully, and I pray to the Lord for such, that my life will happen, and when it does as slowly as it does, I'll have the courage to walk out of the doors thrown open for me.

The Magic Healing Wand

And so healing begins for me. I wish I could tell you there's a day when I woke up and thought, Alright, Yolie, time to heal. Loss and grief may take years-there's no set time and certainly no expiration date to stop crying, feeling thrashed, low on yourself and just tired. In all candid honesty, my sweetest advice is to embrace the sadness and depression. Squeeze it dry until all you're left with is pulp. The sweet juice quenches your soul and the meaty rinds will serve a higher purpose for you as you continue to heal.

I'm managing my sadness now- I see it coming like a big wave and I brace myself for the ones that hit hard and knock me wet. The smaller, daily ripples wash over my bare skin and lull my spirit into brief tears or a sad smile. And sometimes, sometimes I brave myself and dive right in so that I'm completely drenched and come out so the cold air hits me and wakes me to the reality of beach life without Charley life.

This life, my new life, I admit, is somewhat liberating. Tight shackles around my arms have been unlocked and are freeing my spirit to surrender and just live- it's my mantra. But what does that mean or look like for me? It means I'm centering myself and being present in my moments and in the relationships I attentively nurture. Losing my brother very swiftly showed me what's important versus what I can live without. How often do you listen to someone when they're speaking to you? Are you processing and digesting or thinking of your own thoughts or what you're going to say next when it's your turn?
The majority of our cultures are uncomfortable with raw emotion or being present. We have what Buddhists refer to as "monkey minds" which is a psychological term that means whimsical, restless and uncontrollable. We all do it-even when we try to be still and keep calm, our minds are constantly moving and continue to move as we're telling ourselves to stop.

Santorini, Greece * September 2014

Try meditation. It's a method I have failed to conquer because even when I try to silence myself, I busy myself with silencing myself. The goal is to align with your inner voice and develop an indestructible sense of well-being while engaging in any life activity. One of my goals is to practice this on a weekly basis first, before I commit to anything more than I can promise myself. Following through is important. It's important because you're committing to yourself and someone else and through this gesture, we connect with love and intention- afterall, these are the two spiritual impressions that truly last.