Dear Brendan

 Tomorrow ushers in a new year. Another thing that I can't stop from happening and don't want to do without you. I think if I could gather up all my grief, put it in a box, seal it up, and leave it in 2023 I would. But that feels disloyal to you in some way - like I'd be choosing to leave you behind. In reality, you chose to leave me behind. It seems unfair that I can't compartmentalize my grief and choose to leave all the pain behind. Because I loved you so much and love you still I am unable to do that. Grief just doesn't work that way. It's like once you became a part of my body, living in my womb, our hearts and souls became knit together and it is impossible to separate your life from mine. Sometimes when I sit quietly and think of you I can remember how it felt when your tiny feet kicked inside of me, when you would roll across my belly, and when you would stretch. You made me a mom. You have been a part of me since 1991 and you will remain a part of me until I die. 

I told dad tonight that sometimes I want to fall asleep and I just don't want to wake up again. It's not that I don't want to live, it's just that I don't want to live without you. Parents are not supposed to outlive their children. I want, no NEED to hear your voice. I want to feel your hand in mine. I want to call and talk to you about your hopes and plans for the new year. I want to talk with you about the person in my life that is driving me absolutely crazy. I want to hear your thoughts on how you would handle the situation. I want to hear you laugh and join in that laughter. I want you here. You should be here.

I have been wanting to blog since last Wednesday morning after my therapy session. It was good. I told her how I keep wondering why you didn't hang on, why the love you knew we have for you wasn't enough to keep you here, etc. She told me that is a slippery slope. She told me I need to find a way to stop my mind from going down that road. I told her I can't help it - it just happens. She knows that, she says, I just need to develop a coping skill to have in place to not allow myself to continue down that path when my mind unwillingly takes me there. She also told me that the Brendan I knew and loved, the one who was witty, super intelligent, capable, and logical is not the Brendan who picked up an electrical cord, formed a make-shift noose, and used it to snuff out his life. She said the kind, caring, compassionate, thoughtful, and giving Brendan was not the same as the Brendan who wrote out a very simple good-bye note. She told me that there is evidence that you were likely suffering from a delusional disorder. She said that when a person suffers from a delusional disorder the delusion becomes the most important thing in their life. She said it does not surprise her to learn that you isolated yourself the last few days of your life. She said it is likely that you wanted to be alone with your thoughts to keep the delusion alive and growing. She said people will avoid talking with anyone who might not agree with their thoughts or would try to help them understand that the reality they have created in their mind is not actually true. It hurts me so much to imagine what you were going through those last days. I am not a mental health professional and I don't understand what happens when someone has a break from reality - I only think that it must be terrible. How horrific was it for you to not be able to trust your own mind? There is a part of me that is so relieved to know that you are no longer suffering like that but I don't mean that I am glad you are gone. I want you here with a sound mind. You were a brilliant man. Are a brilliant man? You haven't ceased to exist - you just are not here physically. Which tense is the correct one to refer to you? I had no idea the depth of your struggles until I got a glimpse into your mind via the notes and messages you left behind. I am so sorry I didn't know, Brendan. But I know that you didn't want me to know. The therapist also said that the logical Brendan would have been able to recognize that he needed help and would have reached out. Your track record shows just that. You had reached out for help many times before and were currently utilizing several different resources to manage your mental health. It was the Brendan suffering from the delusion who did the unthinkable. It's that one who forever altered the landscape of our lives. It is that person who broke our hearts and left us to figure out how on earth to survive this tragedy. 

How do I do that? I've been sick since last Monday. I've been coughing and am so very fatigued. I haven't been able to do much at all besides work a little and sleep a lot. I think I am beginning to mend a bit and I am trying to find ways to keep my mind distracted. I have tried reading, working on a puzzle, meal planning, watching TV, etc. Nothing is enough to keep my mind off the horror of losing and living without you. So tonight I googled AFSP - the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. I have emailed a few points of contact to see if there is a support group I can join. I also see that there is something called Out of the Darkness Walk. I signed dad and I up. It's a walk to raise funds for suicide prevention. It takes place in April on the Iowa State campus. What else can I do? I want to try to play the piano more - like you would encourage me to - but the crazy C4 A flat key is broken. I told dad that and he looked at me like I was speaking another language. You would know exactly what I am saying, son. I started reading a book tonight so I can join a discussion on that book in a couple weeks. I ordered a Cribbage game so maybe dad and I can learn something new together to help pass the time in the evenings where my mind tends to dwell on you not being here. I could color in my adult coloring book. I could buy yarn and try to crochet something. I could renew my fitness center membership and show up there a few times a week. I could start thinking of where I want to plant vegetables when it's time to start the garden. I just don't have the desire to DO any of these things. I think I am seriously depressed. I would think that's to be expected. Is depression a natural part of grief? I'm not sure. At what point does it go from being expected to being worrisome? 

I have very low expectations for myself right now. I have a daily goal of getting dressed each day. I haven't met that goal every day lately. It's been especially hard when I feel sick so I am kind of giving myself a pass for that right now. Another daily goal is to eat mostly nutritious food. I find it strange how cold weather and sadness make me want to eat an entire roll of cookie dough. I haven't succumbed yet. Probably only because your dad will not buy that for me and I don't have the energy to wear "real" clothes and drive to the store myself. And my other daily goal, Monday through Friday anyway, is to work as close to 8 hours as possible. Tomorrow is a holiday so I have planned one thing to do that does require getting dressed in decent clothes. It will be hard though because the last time I went to this place I was with you. If I am not intentional about planning something I will just sit and be sad. I guess it's better to be moving and doing something, anything really, than just being stagnant. I'll still be sad, but maybe I won't feel like a bump on a log...just existing. 

I couldn't go to church today which might be part of the reason I am feeling so down tonight. I wasn't able to drive in to work at all last week either so the isolation from working from home all week and not being with my church family is taking its toll. 

I read something tonight that stuck with me. A person who lost a loved one to suicide got a tattoo that says, "For you, I will." I like that. For you, I will. For you, I will live. For you, I will remember. For you, I will be an advocate for mental health and suicide awareness. For you, I will cling to Jesus and try my very best to be a beacon of hope for others. For you, I will try to make a difference. 

And for those you left behind. I will be transparent and real. I will be a listening ear. I will be a shoulder to cry on. I will talk about you with them and listen to them talk about you. I will celebrate you. I will try to help them on their grief journey. 

And for me...I will read God's word, I will pray, I will listen to praise and worship music, I will read devotional books, I will go to church, I will laugh and I will cry. I will learn new things. I will meet new people. I will cherish old friendships and make new ones. I will make new memories, but I will not forget you. I will think of you in the present tense. I will imagine you walking the streets of Heaven, enjoying a sound mind and being completely at peace as you bask in the presence of Jesus. I will look forward to the time when I will see you again - whole, healthy, peaceful. I love you. 

2024 is coming, ready or not...