December 2019 I lost an important special friend. Someone I felt was a kindred spirit. I felt like I was supposed to know him in my life. I had met him in 2011. We had stayed friends throughout the years. Somehow I had let him in to the warmest place I could find in my heart. I allowed him access to the corners of my mind and the sights of me that I would never allow most. He got me through some rough times and I got him through a few. 

Well... He had gotten into an accident at work again... the injuries this time around were very severe. His depression started to flood in. I talked to him almost everyday trying to keep his mind from sliding into the darkness. The year of operations, absence of his loved ones, and hospital rounds took their toll on him. He was told he would not be returning to the job he loved. Injuries were permanent. He thanked me for keeping him sane for so long. Then he went silent.

I was worried so, I go to check on him one day... the phone was given back to work. His sister replied with an email. It heavily insinuated him leaving this world by taking his own life. I broke apart. I fell apart at work and home. Anywhere. Everywhere. To songs. To voicemails. To old emails. To text messages. To memories. To wishes. To unmet aspirations. Visited an old friends grave and dropped to my knees in the rain to gut wretch the tears out of my entire being. I could almost feel my organs squeeze the life out of me so that the tears could spill out of my eyes. Greif attacks were everywhere. I hid them the best I could. I could never hide the redness under my eyes made by the tears that slipped out of them. 

I found books on bereavement and I looked up research on specific suicide loss. I tried doing things to bring myself calmness. To get me through it. I tried talking to him out loud but I'd stop mid sentence and the silence gripped me. 

Then corona came into life... and a job lay off... the losses were mounting. My old life was dying. I needed to let all of it go... all of it. It overwhelmed me... 

I suddenly had a lot of time to grieve. To face it head on. There was nothing to stall it. Nothing to ease it away. No work to divert my attention from it.

For months I was writing in a journal, electronic notes, on scraps of paper,  to his personal email because no one would read it... so I could vent there. This month I got an email replying to me from his work email... it was a letter trying to bring me peace... but it broke me more. It said, it was set to send out at a later date... to say goodbye... it was meant to give me closure but my mind would not grasp it. I wretched and locked myself in my room for days after reading it. Face in my pillow to muffle the whimpers. Curled like a ball... grasping my pillow... hiding from everyone... holding on to the slightest bit of sanity inside of my head. Forcing the conspiracy theories of unacceptance out of my mind as it fights to force me to see that this is not true. I dont fight back... but I hug me... and I just repeat, "it will be ok". Even as my head hears those words, it comes up with another story.. and again, I tell myself, "it will be ok" like I'm telling my mind to come with me to the place where we accept this death as truth. I'm hard headed.

I am riddled with guilt and pain. Depression holds on to me and somedays I function only because I mentally drag myself to physically do so because I know its good for me. Sometimes I wonder if I'm just selfish because I'm not ready to let him go. Like that's where I get to see or feel him even if its just in my pain. I believe in energy transfer when we die... I do. Something about this one though... it haunts me. Like, I'm needing to see this. 

The grief attacks... those have slowed down. But now, its replaced with this "deadness". It's not empty and its not full... its stagnate. I could float through it like it was air. I can't tell if its stifling or clearing. 

So...  a while back I realized how much he meant to me... in order to process through it, I started writing a story about us. It is my hope that by the end of the story, I will have found my closure and I will have a story of my life with him existing somewhere in it. 

The research tells me, I am needing counseling. The tests are showing an abnormal amount of oddities that show need for concern. All the while I think this is normal... and now I'm seeing it is not. Its become a tragic event in my life. One I will need to get through, no matter how slow I get through it. 

I found this group forum because I know I need it. Yet, I don't even know what to do with it. 

So... how long is too long? 

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Replies to This Discussion

My heart goes out to you.

My brother was killed in a car accident twenty-five years ago. It took my twenty-five years, but I found a way to live with it. I still see my brother in my sleep.

My mother died last April after a horrific five year battle with vascular dementia. That hurts worse now than it did in April.

Sometimes, just talking and knowing there is someone listening helps. A couple of days ago, they had a trivia show on the local radio. I knew one answer and I phoned in. They thanked me for having the answer and wanted my details so they could send me a prize. I told them that my mother died, so I don't deserve any kind of prize. They were sympathetic. They said they still thought I deserved a prize.

My deepest condolences for your losses.

You seeing your brother though... Perhaps that's a way of him letting you know that he's with you. 

As for the dementia with your mom, that's a really difficult disease to watch and endure.We have a few family members who have had it. I can't begin to imagine how much more harder it is when its one of your parents. The ones who raised you. Some days are better than others until things go dark. You almost feel like you watch them die out before their body does. You end up grieving for such a long time because of how the disease slowly draws out.  

That's a rough patch of life to brave through. You got through it though. They both aren't suffering anymore... and they are together until you get to see them again. I feel like, when those we love go first, then its our job to stay here as long as we can so we can accumulate as many experiences and stories that we can. That way, when we are reunited with them, we have a lot of stories to share. Even as I believe that deep in my heart, I have to say that some days are still really hard to get through. 

i dnt no

mom her famly grefed for mums dads for yrs evn now pn off her brthr is in resrel fasilts coz of dem /alz

ask why thy not bean 2 sea thm tell thm thy gon thy grevin agan

wen dad died i wz a rec 

stil get upsett of 8 yrs latrer 

bean on rolcostr of loss sisne

i hav 2012n wz yr of hell so wz 2013 thn 2014 2015 2016 i loss my fur kid it hlp me gt trhu darkk monets she did 

thn 2017 i wz a victm of crim coz i wz so drand of my mom s uncs  dem/alz i no a porr exsuse 

thn 2018 mor loss 2019 mor loss 

ths yr mor loss wors bit wz i cud not get to say gudbu 2 coz of cov19

lozzin a frind 2 cov19 not bean abl2  say gud by 2 all of her oldd skool buddis frm yr 7 2 13 w e all sad now we in 40s/30s we is 

it min we all need conlin we do butt cnt coz of cov19 restricsonn 

iv bea so loww on off coz i nct get 2 sea my mom unlc coz of cov19 restrsonss ruls i feal lk its raset presers tim wastedd coz of cov 19 

srry sorrry if im rantin 2 mushh on yore posts s i am

It's ok to vent. Its a very difficult year indeed. People are leaving so quickly and in ways that don't allow you to have that last few moments to say what you wish you could. It's heartbreaking. 

Thank you, Alma. I appreciate it.


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