What kind of heart doesn't look back?

I feel like I can't catch my breath.
The wind has been knocked out of me. It hurts.
So bad.
And here I am, left here to crawl my way out of this.
It's been months.
We don't talk about it.
Partly because all it does is bring back every ounce of searing, blinding pain. Partly because it's self preservation- if we don't talk about it-if we don't talk about him, we can move past it.
We can move on.
Pretending those two years didn't happen is easier than living in the reality that they did. That he had us all fooled and that his pain overwhelmed him. The hatred he allowed himself to feel overtook him.
He ended his own life at the hands of a million lies.
It's not fair.
I still find myself searching for a reason to believe its not true.
I do ok most days.
It's the worst at night. I hear a song. Think of something to tell him. Find out about something I know he would like. And it's like a swift punch in my gut. My breath is gone again. I remember. The phone call. The moment my world stopped spinning. The defiance. The unbelief. The pleading. My broken heart. In those dark quiet hours of remembrance- it still bleeds. But even though it's painful I still want to remember. I want to relish in every moment of happiness we shared. Every single argument we had. All the inside jokes. All the good and all the not so good. There are so many memories together. Those memories are the only thing left. They are the only thing we can hold on to that proves he was here.
I wish I would've called. I wish I would've [could've] stopped this.
But what had been decided had already been set into motion & he had every opportunity for it to not be like this.
The pain was too strong.
The hurt was overwhelming.
His shame consumed him.
He felt like it was too much.
He felt like this was his only choice. That's the part that unhinges me every time- he was convinced he had no other option.
Suicide- I haven't figured out how I feel about it. I used to think it was an automatic sentence to damnation.
Now I'm not so sure.
Actually I'm not sure at all.
God is a forgiving God.
He is just & merciful.
I just don't know.
The questions swirl around in my head a thousand times a day. I don't know what to do with them. The questions I have will never have answers. The person that could give them to me made sure that I would never get them.
This entire experience makes me want to not ever let my guard down. It makes me want to seal my heart and my love away in a dark tiny crevice of myself and never let it out. If I could get away with it I would totally shut myself off from everyone. But the people in my life love me too much to let me do that.
Love- that's the thing- I let myself love him. Now I can't let go. Regardless of if he loved me the same way or not-he still loved me and he let me in as far as he let anyone in.
So many conversations, so much time. Now it's just gone.
Gone.
He's just gone.
There's nothing special, or romantic, or redeeming about it.
Just gone.
And here I am not even able to breathe... I just hope someday I'll breathe again.

We'll Be Glowing in the Dark

Originally posted 11/8/11:

I am an avid baseball fan, but I think I really just began liking baseball because it led straight into basketball season. I needed something to occupy me until the glorious sound of rubber against hardwood came back into my life. I am in love with basketball. There is nothing I love more than watching my precious little (yet several inches taller than me) brother play basketball. I can remember all the hopes and dreams he shared with me in middle school of playing for Duke. Being in the NBA. I even bought him a Duke shirt for Christmas one year & told him if you're going to dream big, make it the biggest dream you can come up with. The thing about that dream is, he's good enough for it. He's a phenomenal basketball player.
His freshman year of high school he was injured playing football. That injury required surgery & no sports for a year. He sat out his freshman basketball season. He rehabbed his knee & was ready for the season. He was a starter his sophomore year. It was exhilarating to see him return to the game he desperately loved. Midway through the season he was injured in a cheap shot foul from a rather large opponent. X-rays, MRI's, doctors visits began & the verdict was that he'd never play basketball again. I cried, he cried, we all cried. It was devastating. I cried the entire last game of the season as we showed our support & as he dutifully sat on the bench. In one last effort to get a second opinion, we saw a doctor that offered some hope & took a wait & see approach. We prayed his prognosis of no surgery & a possible future in basketball could happen. So we waited.
On August 30th after nearly 9 months of recovery and healing my brother was released to play basketball. Tonight I watched him take the court with many of the same boys he's played with for his entire life. I watched him swell with pride in his team & rightfully in himself. He was home. He had persevered and made it back to the game he admires with every fiber of his being.
Bubba, words could never express how proud I am of you. Never refuse to let your dreams die, you never know when you just might get everything you've ever dreamed of!

We Are Tethered To The Story We Must Tell

This is a disclaimer: this might have a tendency to get dark for a bit, I apologize. Please bear with me.
I have experienced death and loss and grief and mourning before. These are not new experiences for me. But this death, the death of one of my best friends, someone I loved, someone I spent almost everyday with for two years- I haven't ever experienced this before. I made a declaration during those first few hazy days of shock and grief that I was going to allow myself to feel and experience this the way I needed to. That I wasn't going to take care of anyone but myself. I've done mostly that. I have had good days, and numb days, and blah days. Some days are easy. Some days I literally will myself to hold it together. Other days are difficult but manageable. Every day is different. More often than not I find myself wishing I had a time machine. I would love to either reverse or fast forward. This present, where I am now- where I feel stuck and unmoving-it feels slightly unbearable. In my mind I feel like I can deal with my life up until this point. Today. This is all I can take. I can't do anymore. But so badly I want to fast forward through this. To not have to ride this roller coaster of emotion. To not expect him to walk in the door any minute. To not hear a song and hear his voice singing it. To not miss him every second of every day. The fast forwarding isn't real. It isn't this process called grief- its denial. And to deny all these things is to deny Adam. To deny he was here. To deny that he played a huge role in my life. To deny that he meant so much to so many people. To deny that he mattered and his life was valuable and important and honorable. And I couldn't deny him, not now, not ever.
I have thought so many times that I just want someone to wade out into the deep dark shadows that I feel stuck in and lead me out. Tonight I realized I'm not the only person out here. We-all of us hurting and broken people- are all out here together. We all miss him. I don't ever want to forget him. I want to talk about him. I want his name to be said out loud not whispered and quiet. He was here and he mattered. But we are out here scared and sad and we all feel alone, but we're not alone and we must work together to get back to the solid shore. I also know that God is with me in the high places as well as the low. He never leaves. That even when the darkness is overwhelming and the silence is all I can hear, He is there. Waiting.
Urging me closer to Him.
I tell myself don't lose sight of what's ahead.
Remember what you know is true.
God has promised not to give you more than you can bear.
God is faithful.
God is merciful.
God is gracious.
Grace & Mercy it never ends.
Faith. Grace. Mercy.