3 Years Later…its still a hard week

3 years ago this Friday, my younger brother died. He was 20. 20 years was longer than he should’ve made it. He was born with severe intestine and kidney problems which he shouldn’t have survived. He had more surgeries than I could ever count and multiple transplants. Then, just over 3 years ago and a month after my wedding, he was diagnosed with cancer. Aggressive. It only took three months.

I don’t even remember what I did two years ago at this time. Almost definitely isolated, but it’s pretty much blocked out. Last year I isolated so bad for the months leading up to it. To the point I almost thought I’d pushed my wife away.

This year though, I’m trying to be different. I’ve been in counseling. I’ve cried—really cried—for the first time since my brother passed. For so long I just couldn’t. I don’t know why, but the tears just wouldn’t come. But now they do, and they’re welcome. I’m only just beginning to understand how not only his death, but the years of him in and out of the hospital have affected me. I’m beginning to grieve not only the loss of him, but the loss of the childhood we didn’t get to have.

I’m tired of giving away my pain to distractions. Hiding from what’s hurting. For once, I want to sit with this and remember. I’ve learned it’s ok to hurt and to cry. It’s needed even. But it’s hard. So I’m just going to do my best this week. And maybe if someone asks how I’m doing, I’ll be honest this time and let someone sit with me.