Heartbeat

I see what grief does, how it strips you bare, shows you all the things you don't want to know. That loss doesn't end, that there isn't a moment where you are done, when you can neatly put it away and move on.

When someone you love...when they die, you want it undone. You'd do anything to have them back, and it's easy to believe that if only this had happened or that had happened, everything would be fine. And that's what makes you angry. What makes you hate. You don't want to believe that sometimes bad things happen just because they do.

Under the idea that we can all make our own fates, that we have choices, is the reminder that sometimes we don't. That sometimes life is bigger than our plans. Bigger than us.

And that's what makes you angry. What makes you hate. You don't want to believe that sometimes bad things happen just because they do.

I always thought of grief as a blow that took everything out of you. And it is like that. But it stays, past that first hard hit. It stays and blows its breath into you. It's always there, reminding you of what you've lost. What's gone.

It's like I'm living inside a mirror. I see things, I do things, but they are just surfaces and nothing more.

I will always know what life can take, but I am ready to see what it can give.

He kisses me and for that kiss, for that moment, I forget how worried I am. It comes back, of course, but with Caleb, I feel more whole—I am more whole—than I have been since Mom died. I love him. I love him because of who he is, who he really is past what everyone else sees; the lost boy, the druggie, the car thief. I love him because he is strong and caring. I love him because he broke and put himself back together again. I love him because he is beautiful inside and out. I love him for being here with me. I love him for not telling me that everything will be all right. I love him because he knows what life is like, what it can do, and is always honest about it.

You can plan all you want, but you will never know what will be. Life just is, and I am here in it. I am waiting for what comes next.

...She is so relieved to know that he's better and is finally getting the sleep he needs and she misses him.

I sit next to Caleb, waiting and thinking about what life really is. About how it has its own will. How it shows you things that rip you open, tear your world apart. How it unfolds even when you think it can't. How it takes you places you never thought you'd be. Shows you things you never knew you wanted to see. Brings you pain - and joy.

Under the idea that we can all make our fates, that we have choices, is the reminder that sometimes we don’t. That sometimes life is bigger than our plans. Bigger than us.

I will always carry Mom in my heart. I will always miss her. I will always wish she was here.

She's gone, but I can be happy. I can be in love. I can be both those things and scared too, and I am. I am, and this is what life is.

A family is more than one Person.

I hurt all over even more now, like someone has shattered my insides, like I've been torn apart and put back together but I'm missing something. Her. And him. My brother.