A handful of people have spoken to me as though they know exactly what happened to my brother- as though knowing him for ten years gives them the authority to know "the story". There is no story. Try as people might to reference his character flaws or mistakes, they have no right to justify his death. So what- you hung out with him every couple years or exchanged text messages with him here and there, or he showered you with unconditional love for six months, and he made you smile everytime you saw him? Umm, no, you don't know him as I do. You don't know why he took his life. Speculate all you want and side with the undisclosed enemy, but I'd rather you keep your judgments and opinions to yourself. This goes for anyone who is on the other side of devastation and loss.
Loss changes us with time. Whether it's a relationship, a fallen friendship or a death, it's mind-blowing to experience going from darkness to some sense of life.
Truth is, I have one foot in pitch dark and one foot out of a sun-lit window pane. Some days I'm completely in the dark with all lights shut off and cowering in my closet.
Where can peace be found and what does it look like? Again, there is no booming voice overhead that announces, "You have arrived, my dear". I haven't been searching for this place people speak of and live to bask in it. In fact, I hear that it exists and admit that I don't care for it. Not externally, at least. "Peace from within", my brother Charley would encourage. And so I'm working on a peace I know I can feel; a peace that is tangible and reflects off the shattered pieces of my heart into my own mirror reflection. Peace for me is a moment of complete bliss' which is often a consequence of living love with my toddler daughter. She's grown rather quickly and is a gentle soul who caresses my face as I cry and holds it in her tiny hands sometimes. She tells me that she dreams of her Nino and describes the things he does or the words he speaks to her. Just today she sat up in the car seat in search of him as though he were standing across the street waving at her glowing face and excitedly happy to see her. The innocence of her soul brings me peace. If only I could live my life looking for my brother and being blissfully ignorant to his passing.
Peace, like memories, come and go. It's here for a couple of minutes and then it dissipates as I remind myself that my brother has passed. Do you want to know what my FIRST thought was this morning when I woke up? Charley is dead. Peaceful sleep but rude awakening. And so no matter what I do or how I spend my day, there is no choice with thoughts of tranquility and serenity. Reality taps me on the shoulder every few minutes to tell me what is and what isn't. I can hysterically laugh at a comedy for two hours but as the end credits roll, I'm crying and having an anxiety attack because I've crashed from my fake high. No matter the encouraging thoughts for me and my family, my wonderfully jovial brother is gone. And this tragic fact alone robs us of all peace.
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