Learning to Love Myself...For the First Time

I lose my brother all day, anytime that I think of him and can't tangibly touch him, see him, hold him, smile at one another. What I have now are memories that I'm afraid will slowly dissipate as my mind grows gray and my hair colors silver (which, by the way, has already begun with the years I've aged in the last few months). Memories that are molding me into the person I've always wanted for myself and the woman my brother encourages to see. I can admit that it's involuntary, in that I hear my brother rallying my strengths as I resist and tell myself I don't wanna. Magically enough, I'm growing with his spiritual love. Growing signifies change and change is not something I want...because for me, it also means I am moving forward without him, and that's something I won't force myself to do- live without him. I'm obviously living because I wake up everyday and move. I eat. I smile. I love. I cry. And I feel sorry for myself for the immense loss I endure everyday.

We're coming up on seven months of his passing and I wonder what I must sound like to people who listen to me unload the weight of my sadness and my utter and complete confusion. I try to express my desperate longing for his energy, but of course, I'm just a grieving sister who won't let go and let be. Who won't accept life for what it now is and won't move forward with my brother in my heart and not in the webs of my fears and guilt. There's no expiration with grief and the emotions associated with it, especially when the loss is a life. Why should I wake up one day, shake it off and tell myself to move forward? You know, I imagine my brother in my place and how he would be if I were the one who died and how he'd be handling my absence...and I know he'd be in the same emotional place, the same level of grief if not more. He'd feel like all of who he is failed me, question himself and how I slipped through his fingers which held me so tightly. I wouldn't want that pain for him just the same as he wouldn't want this pain for me.

He is my team of one and so much more than my brother. I lost my mentor, my guide, my cheerleader, my parent, my savior, my best friend, my pillow and my cold shower, my warm blanket fresh out of the dryer, my happy sun and my night's prayer, my athletic coach and above all, the man who loves me more than I love myself. I lost a lot of people beautifully embalmed into one. And I am blessed to have so many roles and so many loves growing with me. Now though, I don't tangibly have him here (and I say that for those who argue he's "still here") to be those people for me. I have been stripped down to my core and my voice is gone. I must identify myself with just my own eyes and my own heart, and let me tell you, it's scary; I'm vulnerable and fierce. I'm at war with everyone and anything that smites my way. I don't like who I am without him and fear that I'm not as good of a mother to my daughter without my brother. I'll continually eff up because I won't be able to look to him for reinforcement and giggles for Mia. I'm a less-than-average parent now...I rely on him to be my counterpart and all of my balances-failures and successes. Looking at myself for who I truly am ignites a fury of drive to not feel ugly and abandoned....to utilize the pain and channel the fury into love for myself. I have to love myself for all of me and all of my potential. I have to (slowly) put my little big sister pants on and step outside. Learning to love myself for the first time will take some time but I pray and beg my brother that I'm looking in the right direction, even if he's pulling me from a heaven I can't see.