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.

Time May Heal All Things but Love Does the Trick

My brother told me in his last weeks that when someone asks you, "How are you?" it's so general that he's more comfortable being asked, "How are you feeling, today?" because one day differs from the next.
He was telling me something so I began to ask him everyday how he was feeling. Sometimes he felt okay and other days he admitted a bad day, but what I did was extend compassion. I provided a comfortable, safe place to be open with our feelings. And even on his apparent bad days, he pulled me aside a couple times and offered to be my listener, "You can always come to me, Yolie. Anything you want to say, I won't judge you, I'll just listen. Come to me and cry it out". He looked into my eyes and held my hands. I silently cried while he embraced me. And still, I said nothing. Looking back, even though he was being the natural big brother, he was also reaching for me for himself. I can't tell you how often I dig my hands into themselves wanting nothing more than to hold him and have him cry it out. He needed a good, open, snot everywhere cry with nothing but love.

A year has passed, today on 9/17/13, when he took his last breath and closed his eyes for the final time.
To be perfectly honest, I didn't know how I would feel. My friend worried that I'd fall into a pit of despair looping his loss in my mind and the experience surrounding it. But I didn't fall as hard because the night before he passed away was the tough day...knowing he was in his desperate moments the night before he died- not the entire day of. By the time we woke up that morning, he'd been gone for a few hours and already in a place of love. Of course, I didn't think about that when I found him; it's taken me a year to discover a fraction of peace in that fact.

A year of denial and sorrow and guilt and desperate attempts to bring him back, has been beyond exhausting. Emotionally draining, tired all the time, mentally preoccupied and prone to a nap if given the opportunity. Geez, and so forgetful. Dramatically so. I forget things as I'm remembering them- I've truly become that absent-minded.
Anytime someone told me that I seem to be "doing better" or "managing well", I became defensive for having progress pointed out. Distance from the emotional core of my brother's passing meant losing him and the day he died-- pain makes me feel close to him. The initial shock and pain of "he's dead" is the last time I was with him in the same room. It's the last time present emotion ties back to him while he was physically present was with me. Does that make sense? And "doing better" also meant I was betraying him.
I've consumed myself with his life and his dailies and his activities and his friends and his traditions to keep him alive for me, to feel that he's physically here still. That was unsuccessful so I began to try instead, to do what his close friend says he began almost immediately, "I live my life according to the positivity in his life and not his last few weeks. His darkest life was at the very end and only in the end". I didn't understand this notion but I envied his optimism. How do I shut out the worst and live with the best?

A shift occurred a couple weeks ago when words and messages were communicated to me from him-and everything spoken to me was spot on- his words, his thoughts, my concerns, his love.
The gears shifted as I found my footing and fumbled with, "If you want to forgive yourself, forgive yourself for creating blame". Ahhh...here I was begging for forgiveness, profusely apologizing to the air and in my dreams, only to suddenly realize that he wasn't forgiving me because there's nothing to forgive me for.
How poetically beautiful and resigning this is!
It's taken a year, an entire year of deep-seeded grief to slowly make my way out of, and gravitate into healing. The last year I compare to the prior year with him when memories were tangible and he was physically alive. Now, as i move forward into the second year without him, I will compare my healing to my grief of losing him. It's only been a year, but the needle has moved and so am I.

I Want to Die Alive

I've never prayed so hard for an afterlife; a space beyond the one we dwell and give our all to.
Death happens. I've lived with the thought that my dad watches over me and all my days. I've spent countless minutes directly speaking to him and feeling embarrassed for mistakes that I committed and sins that he would disprove of. He was the only existence I believed lived beyond me--but I never thought of him as living in Heaven--I simply thought of him as a spirit who checks in on me from time to time, appears when I call him and sends me earthly signs to show me he's listening.
Then my brother Charley passed away and the idea of the source of all life took hold of me and my scarcely pray-prayers. No matter the certainty of my faith that Charley is with God and freely existing in nothing but love, I have a desperate need to know we return to love. That all the days and years spent here aren't in vain and that we are here to live and learn.
My hope is that when Charley's soul passed through this life and left his body behind, he immediately felt love and release. Nothing ached, his heart felt serene and his mind wondered where his pain went; but it didn't matter because Jesus, he is being embraced by a love he never felt here on Earth nor in the words people spoke to him. And then he saw himself, his lifeless body and felt some sense of remorse, some sense of aggravation for leaving us as he did. For dying and causing the immeasurable pain I'm in, for leaving the girl he's known for his forever and the woman he came to know.
When I stepped into the circle of death, I covered my mouth and violently shook my head. I wanted nothing more than to believe that my whole life span was not dead. That the eternal stinging in my soul was a mistake. I turned away and screamed a primal scream- a scream that released a fight I will never win. One that pierced the sky and rang in my ears and one that the love Charley stood in, could feel. I felt him there with me, sorrowful and inaccessible, he watched me drop to my knees and pound the floor with my fist until it throbbed and my eyes bled with inconsolable tears. I screamed into the warm air of that moment knowing that it was done. This was his end and my beginnings of this life without him.

This last year has moved as slowly as possible. I would gladly have labor contractions for eternity than to live life without my brother. Grief, as I've stated before, is my dark passenger. It goes where I go and seldomly takes a backseat. But when it does, man, am I living with smiles in my heart and naked emotion spilling from my gut. I want to live and love and learn and take my lessons with me back to our source of all. I want to show Charley that I will continue to live with him in everything I do. I want to travel to all the places I want damnit, and seed the relationships that are worthy of life and self. I want to invest in the opposites of the ugly hearts Charley invested in (athough I believe everyone needs love), I want to live my life hoping that I can be just as proud of myself as he is, but more than anything, I have decided to live today and again tomorrow, and heck maybe the day after.
It's true..."one day at a time"...eventhough these are empty words that fall upon emptiness, it's the only way to live when you're hurting. And when I cry, it's perfectly acceptable. And when I isolate myself, it's understandable. And when I smile, please let me without expectation that I will smile all day. I can only hope that when I die, I will know that I lived for most of it.

Life and Spirit Exist Within Us All

Al Green wrote a song about "Love and Happiness" and although the beat is soothing and so are the intent of the words, do love and happiness really exist? They exist as separate entities but do they coexist?
In loss, life, events, celebrations, and our everyday, we encounter people and create networks, don't we? The most valuable of all step into our circle of trust and we learn to move among one another with our limbs outstretched and our hearts set to "open". We form relationships which stem from the connecting of two souls under one love of hope and reciprocation even though there are those we lose, fall away or were temporary gifts we so needed. We learn from one another as do babies when they begin to learn the environment they are adapting to and the people they look to for survival. They lift their heads and scout their surroundings for newness, they focus their sense of sight in search of color and objects and trust, and they feel according to their core.
If we could go back and act according to only what we feel, would we? Or may I suggest that we already have this opportunity and really, never lost this innocent ability to live according to our internal senses.

Close your eyes and think of a particular challenge you're currently faced with. Take four deep breaths and visualize it. Picture it as a flood of water pushing against a water dam. Take another deep breathe and slowly release as you simultaneously open the flood gates. Imagine that the challenge is also gushing out and being freed of all pressure and expectation. Continue a relaxed state of breathing and feel the water permeate from your limbs, out of your head, to the tips of your fingers and toes...as all of the water falls from your body and into the Earth.

Listen to the sounds you hear. See what your heart wants. Feel what your gut and your inner voice say. Listen. And act. Don't apologize, don't make excuses. Just act. Because when you act according to truth and purity, you are in your truest form of self. And no one will have a right to question you and your ethic. I believe that when you live true to yourself, you are living true for others as well. No animosity and no contempt. Misinterpretations and consequences? Sure. The upside? Man, you. are. you.
And hopefully, love and happiness will fall into place whether it's one at a time or gradual...it exists within you.

Be-YOU-ti-ful

Beautiful. That's what you are in the truest sense. You were created and birthed into a world that automatically saw you as such. Your eyes opened to light, your lungs inhaled new air, and the faces behind the blur identified you as a beautiful notion. This sentiment carried on in a very perfect sense until you met life.
Unfortunately it's this same world that toys with you sometimes- negatively judges you, criticizes you- and there are people who only harm themselves (and others too) by intentionally projecting their internal emotions and self-ugly onto you. They pose as sweet and supportive but they aren't. Their goal is to get close to you because it's true, "misery loves company", but misery is really just miserable. Take your malice and self-destructing finger pointing and point it as yourself, darlin'.
DO this: Cut yourself off. Insta-permanent distance and know that your life is unchanged without them in it because this is the easiest thing about loss: severing ties with strangers who appear like dark magic and are flicked away just as quickly. This is called external control--celebrate the strength behind it.

There's good news, though.

You. are. beautiful. and that is unchanging.
The mirrors you turn your eyes away from reflect what you feel. What if mirrors were never created and we only had ourselves and one another to gauge self-beauty?
I admit that I have a very hard time looking at myself in the mirror because I too, don't believe my face exudes anything but ugly and guilt and pain. Sometimes I walk my days wondering if passersby see my insides written all over the drag in my step and the darkness surrounding my already-black eyes. I hide behind my face. Eye contact is tough as is sharing personal space, physical closeness and a heart-felt laugh. If I keep talking then I won't have to stop and think about why I don't want to talk or if I say nothing then I won't be noticed.
I completely understand what ugly and depressed and shame and guilt are either as singular emotions or meshed together into one, great ball of I'm so tired.
Listen, I never knew what internal beauty is until my brother passed away. Beneath all my grief lies a nugget of truth that beams and glitters from time to time. It took several months for me to understand that Charley's thoughts and deep love for me is unchanging- just because he's no longer here with me doesn't mean that our relationship is over. He said to me the night we baptized my daughter Mia, "If no one told you, you looked beautiful today. You are a phenomenal mother". These words resonate with me because he shared compassion and love for me, just for me, on one day that he was barely holding on. He put me first. He put my daughter first. And this crushes me. Still, for months I thought I'm not beautiful anymore and I'm unworthy of love. After sharing this sentiment with my therapist, she too, reassured me that these deeply-seeded words are alive beneath my shattered core. This nugget survives.

As unbearable as life is without my brother, I have learned to be present. My friend said to me just as we caught up last week, "You're alive now. You're awake. You speak differently and you see life differently. It's as though you were sleeping...and now you're not. You communicate with such force from your soul. And it's beautiful". I suppose it's true. I'm significantly more compassionate, fiercely loving, tender with emotions and words and careful that what I say is what I mean.
My brother Charley was very present in all the lives he touched and moved with. He's very present, still.
If it were minutes, hours or years, you had his undivided attention. He listens. He spoke with confidence and wisdom. He shines bright with his eyes and loud with his energy. He smiled almost all the time. I've never known or felt a smile quite like his. He is unique in his aliveness. He is beautiful for always.
And so are you. And so am I.

If You Can't Hear, Then Listen Instead

Charley...

When you escaped from this life and the pain it was thrashing you with, you also took an exceptional amount of my soul and being with you. People say we functioned as twins, walked hand in hand, stemmed from the same life and cloth, and bound together by our inner light. I  happily state to those who ask that, "Yes, I feel him still". I pray this never changes and I pray that you never stray too far from me. 

The morning your breathed your last breath, I woke up and immediately felt different. I firmly remember rising from bed and wondering, I feel so relieved! Since having Mia and becoming a parent, my nights and mornings are often tired. I go to sleep tired and wake up tired. However, this morning was different. I walked to the bathroom, stared at myself in the mirror and just knew. My phone reflected two missed calls from you but no text. My insides shook and went limp. I knew. I stalled and refused to go to your house. I waited because I knew that nothing was going to change and what I was going to see was going to alter my existence and your presence. You were waiting for me. I was scared. I was frightful for you and for me. I was nervous about how to handle the most devastating seconds of my life. But most of all, I broke because I knew you broken to an extent that could never be repaired. 

When you play hide and seek and you're tiptoeing around knowing that someone is going to find you but you're still startled from expectation- that feeling? I do that still, gently pacing the floors in your home waiting for your spirit to visit me. 

This morning I assured Mom that she did well raising you into a wonderful man and kind soul. I encouraged her to know this as not a fact but as a certainty; you lived your life with your own notions but always lived with respect for our family. Sure, you had your jerk tendencies and bluntly honest moments, and who doesn't have flaws and quirks and idiosyncracies? I'm stubborn and hard-headed and bratty and somewhat selfish, but those are my inferior characteristics and not the reasons why I'm loved and love myself. 

For Mom though, not saving you has made her feel inadequate and less-than-motherly. I'm his Mother! How didn't I see this? Why didn't I do anything?  

Just as Robin Williams took his own vastly larger-than-life, he was also severely depressed. He clearly couldn't stand to live anymore and clearly didn't have clarity. I read an article where the writer states, "I'm mostly angry because he wasn't under 24/7 suicide watch. Why didn't anyone help him and why didn't anyone listen?" Truth is, his family may have known and they listened, but I'm almost sure they didn't want to believe he'd take his own life. Not Robin Williams. Not this amazingly gifted and hilariously talented, funny man who provides the world with laughter and happiness. I believe Robin Williams wasn't a performer or an entertainer- I believe that he played himself as himself. He was happy, he was jovial, he was manically present. He wasn't crazy. And he was exhausted. In the darkest moment of his soul, he gave into liberation~ a liberation that freed  him from all pain and desperation.

Charley, I know that you know how deeply loved you are. You know that I love you more than I love myself. Love wasn't the problem I don't think. You and I used to say that love isn't enough. And it isn't. It never has been and it ultimately wasn't for you. This doesn't mean that because I understand you, that your blind-sided decision doesn't hurt me. This fact antagonizes me daily. Love alone couldn't save you. My love for you didn't save you. Life requires so much more from one another and the world we live in. 

One thing that helps to get us all by? Listening. Listening with your heart and not your ears. Hearing with your heart and not the surface. Delving deeper than ice skating on a thin sheet of sheer. Undivided attention. Engaging with someone and eye contact. Genuinely caring for friends and family. 

I listened with you your whole life and I felt every moment we spent together. I listen to you, still. Waiting patiently for the moment your voice speaks me to so clearly that I believe you're home again.

I stand with you for always, 

Yolie 

Faith Involves A Leap Of Imagination

We want to believe without questioning and love without expectation.
Some of us have faith simply by surrendering to what will be and some of  us still, want to have faith but also want to know if there's truth behind it. I'm the latter; I am struggling to have faith that "everything will be okay" and that our higher power in the realms of love, "knows what he's doing". Candidly put- since we don't know what happens when we die, since we don't know FOR CERTAIN, I instead allow myself to have hope that life is going to be just that: life. A daily existence with technically no end in sight and a short 24-hours of what we make of it. Though this perception sounds cynical, it comforts me because it means I have zero expectation and investment in tomorrow. For I now know that tomorrow-that overnight, heck, a moment, a curveball of words-changes entire lives. Whether the catapult begins when the sun falls and the moon shines, life also morphs into another rise and people fall...forever.

Many years ago my brother Charley and I once discussed the idea of faith and dissected it as though it were a psychology project. Is it religion that drives and encourages a people to drop their arms, cease the fight and worry, and extend their souls onto a master of all? Do we, as a culture, find life more manageable if we believe, "Let Go, Let God"? What I mean here is, do we unburden ourselves, liberate ourselves even, by handing over our deepest, saddest, uncertain thoughts and giving the holy universe permission to do as it pleases, as it wishes and as it knows best.~ "Here. I trust You". Maybe it's because I'm a control freak (lovingly, of course) that I want to know how and why and when.

When does faith become hope and hope become denial? At what point in the spectrum is it no longer faith? What if we're so blinded by hope that we can't see reality?
These are the philosophical sentiments my brother and I exchanged almost word for word. He and I sat together and pondered faith because we didn't grow up in a religious household and were guided and encouraged to believe in God and ourselves and each other. And I suppose I grew up with pessimistic notions because our childhood was rough, our adolescent years were challenging and our adults years have been nothing short of "ahh, so that's why I'm who I am". Life, right?
I've had writers block for almost a month; afraid of my thoughts and the darkness it feels, pain is much too heavy to formulate into words you may understand. What I did to get here was look back on the major events of my life to see the broader picture. Almost like taking a break from a performance to sit with the camera man and asking him to rewind and play in slow motion.
This is what I saw: Charley was always there. My Father's death, my Mother's grief, the lonely childhood, questions and vague answers or none at all, the silence in the house, the drawn blinds, skinny kids, brother acting as Dad, brother acting as man of the house, Mom remarrying...and so on and so forth. When I look at every moment that has shaped me to now, Charley was front and center, or front and on my side. And now he's not and never will again.
If you've ever lost someone, and I emphasize LOST because you will only see them in your mind's eye, then you know pain and you know loss. What I have faith in is that life ends. What I have faith in is that I am my best in the moments when I am living. After that moment, anything goes.
And what I believe is that we do not betray our faith by questioning it and seeking meaning, rather we strengthen it.