Thursday, January 5, 2017

Remembering the blessing of my brother --

 
Lessons learned in mourning with those that mourn


The anniversary of my brother's accident and passing (January 3 - January 5, 2013) has me contemplating just how much I miss him (and why) .... I hope my sister-in-law will forgive my sharing some of the more deeply personal reasons I have mourned so much today.

I've been remembering Lauren's funeral (January 2, 2010) and the days surrounding it.  I've remembered the challenges of planning and preparing in a few short days to celebrate her life in the most meaningful ways before sending my son back to college, a daughter back to high school, and one to return to her mission in Thailand ... and dealing with everyone's opinions and parameters of how I should shoulder this new hollowness of soul that was mine to bear.

As hard as it is to lose a child, and to bury one, which is beyond the comprehension of anyone who has not had to endure it -- there is the burden of complex societal "norms" and "expectations" that those on the "outside" create for those left with a new "normal" far outside of society's comfort zone.  The burden of grief is enough, without the criticism or skepticism of those who would define for the grieving what is or is not acceptable.

We experienced the good, the bad, and the ugly during those times. Sometimes as I remember, the tears that fall are excruciatingly painful ones.  Not out of judgment or resentment, just the true hurt that can be inflicted by insensitivities of those who don't have your best interest at heart.  

But, sometimes the tears that fall are the sweetest sensations of love that overflow from a very grateful heart. Those are the memories that scoop me up after the others knock me around for a bit. Those are the ones that testify of a Savior who showers Tender Mercies on the darkest and stormiest of times.  And, a Father in Heaven who is ever mindful.

As I think back to our experience, I remember . . . .

There was a man in our neighborhood who shoveled our driveway every day from the day she died until after her funeral. He did so quietly, early every morning so that there would be no concern for us to remove snow for safety or convenience.  (We have a VERY long driveway.)  We had never asked and he never pointed it out ... I just noticed him outside my window. But, he saw the need and met it.  Jay's kindness will not be forgotten.

I remember Jen re-wrapping hundreds of lollipop's (one of her nicknames) with cow printed paper (her favorite collectible) to give to everyone who came to the funeral.  She also made gold Childhood Cancer ribbons for people to wear for the day.

I remember sweet Jessica who sang so willingly and so beautifully for the funeral (no small task) accompanied by her mother Karen who had to buy a plane ticket to come to Utah and stepped in without having to be acknowledged to provide music before and after the service. 

Mary ... oh dear Mary and my brother Scott.  The subject of another addition to the blog.

Ahhh ... the beauty of real friends.  We were blessed.  

While that isn't all -- my heart (especially today) turns to my dear older brother Thayne and his remarkable family. We aren't just talking about being pall bearers, helping to dress Lauren - (after being the ones who purchased the burial clothing), running all kinds of errands before and after the funeral, taking all of the pictures at the funeral, getting our Christmas Cards out for us that year between her passing and the funeral (to a re-created list {by them} after a computer meltdown) of over 500 that needed to be stamped and stuffed with 3 different items and included about 1200 labels to be printed and applied) . . . I could go on and on about the Festival of Trees tree, the meals they brought, the help with the video, the help procuring the grave site, the love and friendship they offered to my family throughout a very lonely ordeal when others didn't stay . . .

Yep, they were all that. On the morning Lauren passed away, once our family kind of caught our breath momentarily, we called two brothers and their wives ... Scott and Mary, Thayne and Deaun. These were the only people we were ready to share with at the time.  They kept it close and didn't break that confidence.

They came running as fast as they could and wept with us.  

While we went to the mortuary, they cleaned our home, including removing the hospital bed, replacing all the furniture around it, and Thayne took all of the medications to the police department for safe disposal.  No one could have been more kind and loving than these people.

Thayne and Deaun and their family at Lauren's funeral

Two years earlier, I had received the call from them that our mother had passed away.  She was being cared for by them in their home, and I had the opportunity to run to her side before the mortuary came to take her away.  Deaun went with me to dress my mother so I didn't have to be alone.   The day we buried my mother was the day we found out Lauren's cancer had recurred the first time and after their caregiving of my mother, they didn't hesitate to do whatever it took to support us in the next round of our battle ... Again, no one could have been more kind and loving than these people. 

Three years after Lauren's passing, the day after I had been remembering her funeral, I received a call that an unforgiving accident would be taking the life of my brother and I was being given the opportunity to go and give him a kiss goodbye.  I went as fast as I could to say that temporary goodbye ... and to weep with his wife and children who had wept with me.  Years of their love and support flooded my mind as I had no idea what to say in the face of such a tragedy. Being 14 years older than me, this brother had even been a major care-giver to me as a child, besides the comfort he had given me as an adult.  I was overwhelmed to lose the first of my seven siblings, especially since he and his wife had been at every major event of my life and a critical part of my comfort . . . the grief was unbearable.  But, there's was even more than mine and I knew it.

Just because I had lost my parents, my daughter, and now a brother, I didn't know the loss of a husband.  This dear, dear friend/sister-in-law meant the world to me and I loved her dearly ... and even after experiencing their masterful love and support -- I had NO idea what to say or even what to do.  I was so blessed to have her relieve my grief -- and now I needed to find a way to relieve hers.  I suppose we all 'take turns.'  It is one of the great tragedies of grief ... that it is so difficult for those of us required to shoulder it ... to understand what to say or do.  But, it is also, I believe, one of the great lessons of life -- to love one another.  It IS what we have to offer.  While some (like these relatives of mine) know better how to express it than others (including me) ... it is the key to avoiding unnecessary pain in these times of trial.


All I knew to do was to try and be there for them too ... and take photos in the blizzard on the day of the funeral. :-) 




And, I'll do my best to stay by her and not criticize how, when, or why she mourns -- just like she always has for me.

A few years ago, I participated with a few of my thoughts for a video for a woman who was grieving the loss of her son and had compiled a book on grief.  I had no idea why I was chosen or what to say, but wound up being part of a group of people who talked about some of their perspective on loss, based on their experience.  Every once in awhile, like today as I mourn again the loss of my dear brother and give thanks for the deep love of him that causes that mourning, I turn on this video and listen again to the thoughts we all shared in our grief to remind myself how blessed I am to have had those I love and been loved in return to grieve with and for . . .


I have friends who during this 2016 Christmas season have lost their father, one who lost their mother, one who lost her dear husband, one who lost his dear wife, a sweet friend who lost her own life, and one who lost her dear son. They come from various aspects of my life, including my loss of Lauren -- who was one of her favorite nurses.  I share not only the loss, but the heartache of grief in a society that doesn't want to deal with it.  Everyone has someone to comfort or cheer ... or simply mourn with.

Grief is all around us, loss is a part of living and the great price of loving. While grief is a privilege of those who have had tremendous love in order to experience tremendous loss, ... it is my hope that those who stand on the outside and look in, will go a little easier on the hearts of those on the inside looking out.  And today, while I deeply miss this kind-hearted, loving older brother gone too soon, ... I give great thanks for those who embraced me and wept with me, and great thanks for those I have the opportunity to embrace and weep with in their own loss . . .



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