Saturday, April 21, 2012

Difficult to Deal

This time of year will always be difficult for me...

The rest of the world is celebrating spring: everything is budding, sprouting, and growing.  This time of year is a time for see and acknowledge new life because it is everywhere!  While everyone else is doing that, I am thinking about death, loss, and what might have been.  These two perspectives could not be more starkly different. 

For me, two of my greatest losses are recognized at this time of year. 

Today, April 21st, is my brother Eric's birthday.  He would've been 26 years old.

At the end of this month (thankfully with no actual date, which does make it easier) my first child, we nicknamed him/her "Champ" during the short time I was pregnant, would've been born this year.  

Both of these people were taken from me within two days of each other: tragically, suddenly, and seemingly very unfairly.

I find myself thinking about what today would've been like this year if neither of those things would've happened...

I would be absolutely huge, almost to my due date. I'd most likely be uncomfortable, hot, sweaty, incredibly appreciative and grateful to be uncomfortable, hot, and sweaty, and so ready to meet the life that's been growing inside of me for nineish months.

I'd hobble to the car and Josh and I would drive to my parent's house to spend some time with my family and eat cake and ice cream and open up presents with my brother.  

My brother, would most likely make some sarcastic and funny comment about how "fat" I was getting, but I know inside be so excited to be an uncle.  He was absolutely amazing with kids.  I like to think that he'd be happy, be almost finishing up another semester at school, and that we'd all be celebrating that he was on the other side of drug addiction.  The hope, appreciation for life, and empowerment for what was to come would be written all over his face.  

It's crazy how different hopes, dreams, and plans can turn out.

Today Josh and I will still get in the car and drive to my parent's house.  We will still have cake and ice cream.  We will still, through and despite our grief, celebrate Eric's life and the 25 years we were blessed to have him with us.  And finally, there will still be a whole lot of love at my parent's kitchen table even though the hole for Eric and Baby Champ will be there.

Hug your family tight today...I know I will.

I hope this teaches, heals, and connects.   

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