Joy & Sorrow

This week has brought much joy to our home and my heart. Time with friends, precious moments, connections with dear ones. But this weekend is one of great personal sorrow and as I said good-bye to each friend and loved one this week, the grief grew stronger as the emotions compounded one another. Add in the tragedies across the nation and I find myself just dazed, in tears. It's too much. It's all just too much for my heart to bear.

Today is the 15th anniversary of my Uncle's suicide and Monday is the 5th anniversary of the storm that took our house. This weekend is hard. The grief, although lessened, is present and I'm finding myself at a loss.

I have shared a lot about losing the house, but I don't think I have ever shared about losing my Uncle. Today feels like the right time to do so. My Uncle was one of few family members nearby after I was born, so most of my "little" years were with mom, dad and Uncle. I have photos of him with me as a baby and am told he adored me. In later years we connected again and I was excited for him to meet my firstborn. I was five months pregnant with my eldest when I received the call Uncle was gone. No, not gone, he had chosen to leave, leave permanently...my mind struggled to comprehend. He wasn't going to meet my first born...because he chose not to be here, not to continue living. I had been through family suicide before, but this hit harder. I was older now, surely I could have seen just how much he was struggling, surely I could have done or said something to change his mind, to give him hope, to make him stay. How did I fail so horribly?

I blamed myself, blamed my family, blamed him. I worked and fought and journalled and yelled and cried through my hurt and pain and anger to find this simple truth:  he didn't want to live anymore. I couldn't live his life for him and neither could anyone else. He made a choice that has impacted too many lives to number, but it was his choice. I don't like his choice, I don't approve of it, but I had to release myself and my family from responsibility that wasn't ours to own.

I miss him, still, I miss his laughter and spin on life. I am grieved that my children never had the chance to know him. My heart breaks for the desperation that he must have been feeling this morning fifteen years ago. I cry for the life he still had to live and the influence he could have been and the all the unknowns that were to be, but never will be.

Loss hurts so much because we love so much. Loss hurts so much because our lives were connected, because we had influence with each other, because what was is no more and what could have been will never be. Loss hurts and this weekend I am feeling an extra large dose of loss, but I choose to love and live and risk the hurt of loss for the moments of connection. I have been blessed with many moments of connection this week and I am treasuring each one.