Things to understand about grief...the 11th year chronicle

  I haven't written about grief in a long time or anything else for that matter, but grief has been on my mind a lot lately. I miss Knox; he'd be turning 13 this year and we'd again have 4 teenagers. Janey talks of him often these days. One of the kids has had a crisis of faith over the losses of their life which is understandable as it is no small thing. One is always convinced they could have a horrible illness and we don't know. A friend once told me that as the kids pass through the stages of development, they'd deal with grief all over again. They were right and when the kids  deal with it,  Jon and I deal with it as well.
  Here is the thing to understand about grief. It isn't singular. It isn't a single feeling at a single moment about a single event. It encompasses much more than "so and so died." Death is inevitable and we know this as we are all on the road to death ourselves. Here is the thing though...Death isn't how it should be. If things were right and we lived in Eden, there'd be no death. It should come with a sorrow that comes with things that aren't as they should be.  This is why it isn't singular. This is why we don't just way, "Yeah! Knox is in heaven! Praise be to God!" And then live happily every after. While heaven is certainly worth rejoicing, the way he got there wasn't how it should be and it leaves a aftermath not unlike aftershocks or even a tsunami after an earthquake. It isn't one single devastation.
    Here is what is ...that shouldn't be. Siblings grow up one short. Mom and Dad raise one less. There is always that feeling of one not here. The wondering, the curiosity, what would the dynamic be like. One less sibling to annoy. One less sibling to love. One less to play the game, to ride in the car, to sit around the table, to tuck into bed at night. One less groomsman in a sister's wedding. One less attending graduation. One less blowing out birthday candles, year after year. It isn't singular.
    I some times joke, though it certainly isn't funny, that grief is the gift that keeps on giving. Janey may never figure out how her brother drowned in a bathtub. She may never quit wondering how I didn't stop him or telling me we should have gated the stairs. Creed and she won't take a bath or a shower without a parent or sibling in the next room. They never get to feel like a part of the family that knew him, loved him, physically touched him.
    Jack was young. Don't underestimate the young. He was so angry for so so many years. We didn't just grieve the loss of Knox. We grieved the loss of joy for our son. There were many times we felt like we were going to lose two sons; one to death and one to anger. Every day, the possibility of thinking...He should be here. I should be towering(maybe) over two brothers and not one. Missing out on a soccer partner, a mowing partner, a fortnite partner.
   The Older girls from Emma to Anne Michal dealing with things like being afraid they'd die in their sleep. I think they all went through periods were they were terrified they'd quit breathing.  Elizabeth answered Knox's every beck and call, whether he actually made them or not. She always thought he needed her and wanted to always be with him. Then one day that gets stripped away. A month later she turns 8 without him by her side, her sidekick, her buddy. Emma had just gotten to that big sister stage of him sitting on her lap and I remember how proud she was when he'd want to be with her, but being so young at not yet 5 to have a storehouse of memories.  Anne Michal, the oldest of a clan, a ridiculously proud oldest sister of many. She took it seriously. You know what happens when you are the oldest, responsible, born old and wise and a younger sibling dies. You blame yourself and you get a heavy dose of guilt to carry around. Being told there was nothing you can do, doesn't really do much for that as it is inside. It too is not a singular moment. It isn't a flash of guilt any more than sorrow is a flash. Nightmares...do we even need to talk about those?
    None of these things are how it should have been. The living out of our lives will never seem as it should have been. Does that seem dramatic? Maybe, but it is true. It doesn't mean we are constantly in depression or can't see the goodness of God or find joy in life.  It does mean that we are sometimes sad, struggle with unbelief, or confused at the works of God and His manner of doing things. It means there is always going to be one less person....until it is two less people. It means we are always going to grieve for what should have been. We do not need to hear, "Rejoice for he is in heaven."  We need to hear, "This is a hard pilgrimage for you. Let me travel with you for a bit and keep you company. Heaven is ahead."  We need people to let us lament for lament turns to rejoicing, but we need to get there ourselves even if we have to repeat the journey several times over.
    Lastly, there is an unknown to grief. That seems odd even for me to say for it has been a companion of mine for over 10 years now. Just as I think I have the hang of it and I know how it affects things, it changes course and brings something new. Who knows what the path of grief brings just around that corner up ahead....but beyond that ...somewhere...is heaven.