The Pressure to Be Thankful





Thanksgiving 2012
 

Expectations get you in trouble. Someone always fails or is disappointed. A sincere attempt is always made not to have expectations of situations or people--I'm human, I have standards and I can't help it. And so everyone who has tapered off from me and my family by now, I'll admit that it really hurts, but I expect people to move forward. I don't expect to be comforted until my pain goes away, because my pain will never go away. After all, the true loss is being experienced by his day-to-day family. All we need is a genuine effort to just be with us...though that is very difficult for so many people. We have family members whom we haven't heard from since the funeral, his department brothers who haven't reached out since they laid him to rest and close friends who haven't uttered a word to me.

 

With that said, Thanksgiving is a time to be thankful and grateful for all the luxuries and blessings in life, though that sentiment should occur throughout a calendar year. It's a time for feasting and gathering around a table to celebrate harvest. This year however, and everyday following, is more than difficult to rejoice. This is what is clear:

Yes, I have my family and Mia, but I don't have my brother HERE in his physical form
Yes, I have memories of last year when we celebrated here at his house and he carved a turkey and we jump roped to Invisidutch
Yes, I have a life and I should live it
Yes, he'd want me and my family to celebrate and not be depressed
Yes, I have a lot to live for

blah...blah...blah...blah...blah...blah...blah..................

It's not easy to celebrate because everyone wishes us to or because the U.S. calendar has a national holiday we adhere to. We simply can't celebrate Thanksgiving and we shouldn't have to. Nor should we have to celebrate Christmas (that conversation will come in a month). For now, and for always I am thankful for one thing:

I am thankful God gave me Mia. Her purpose is for me to survive my brother's loss. Without her, I would be in the same dark place Charley was in his last hours. This, I recognize.

I couldn't see my daughter for at least the four weeks following his death- couldn't feel her, couldn't see her angelic face pleading for my attention, couldn't hear her laughter, couldn't feel her embrace and I certainly didn't understand. Now I do. I often sit in front of the mirror and stare at myself just to see my brother and stare into a very similar pair of eyes. I get up close and personal and cry so that I can see him crying and I can feel his pain. I've always been so proud to look like him and now I am even more grateful that I do because I get to see him live through me and my reflection. Life is so lonely without Charley even though I'm surrounded by love. And even though I don't feel what a lot of you feel today or during the holiday season, I will get there someday someday someday someday someday.