#5

[cosmolinguist]

When Chris and I were little and scared of thunderstorms, we'd often end up in our parents' bedroom. Mom can't sleep with anyone touching her, though, so we knew we couldn't get in the bed. But she'd put blankets on the floor next to them and we settled down there, happy just to be in the same room as our parents.

Now I am too big to be scared of storms but I am quivering and sleepless at other terrors.

And once again I find myself sleeping on the floor in my parents' bedroom. It may be a different room, I may have an air mattress now, and I may only be there because we have guests sleeping in my bedroom ... but I slept better last night than I had the two before.

Comments

[karaksindru.livejournal.com]

*hugs*

[cieo.livejournal.com]

That's perfectly understandable. Now is a time for your family to come together and support each other. There isn't anything I can say either as a real person or an internet personality, but I do sincerely hope for things to get easier for all of you.

I also want to thank you for taking the time to respond to my own post, which was highly insignificant in comparison.

Anyway, this is one of those comments that doesn't require a reply.

All the best,
Amy

[blob.livejournal.com]

You don't know me, but I got here from theladiesloos.

I've been following your entries about Chris and not really knowing what to say to you, but I wanted to comment and say, firstly, how terribly sorry I am (although you must've heard that 100 times by now and I'm sure it doesn't take away any of the pain) and secondly, how wonderfully I think you're handling the situation, by remembering the special and happy times, posting photos, etc. Your photo entry is a lovely tribute to him - photos say so much - and it is clear that he was an amazing, handsome, and funny person, and that you loved him so much.

I find it heartwarming to see how much you cared about him because so many people, especially when they reach their twenties, grow apart from their siblings and have a lot of animosity between them. I'm very close to my younger sister - she's one of the three most important people in my life - and I've always been so scared of losing her; so much so that sometimes I can't function because I worry about her so much. Your posts about Chris have shown me a completely new outlook on things and have reminded me that I should stop worrying and just enjoy the time I have with her, because I can see how easily she could be taken away.

I think you are incredibly brave for writing these entries (especially publicly) but I want to thank you for doing so, because it has allowed people to get to know your lovely brother a little bit, to see what a fantastic sister you are, and to be reminded that life is very, very precious and we shouldn't waste a single second of it.

Take care of yourself, please, and keep talking about him - either in here, or to your family and friends. You are helping to keep his memory alive in the best possible way. :)

*huge hugs*

[quuf.livejournal.com]

It's remarkable, the effect parents continue to have on us, for good and for ill. I once worked with a man in his sixties -- married twice, a grandfather, a former teamster -- who was reduced to tears by some unkind words his senile, 95 year-old father said to him. I saw it happen.

Me, I'm never happier than when my mother makes me a sandwich.

I hope you're able to sleep some.

Parents bedroom

[(Anonymous)]

There is depth of spirit in all you write in these days. Theologian, Michael Welker, talks about the Spirit, the Holy Spirit, functioning like a force field, always there, always doing its thing. We participate in that spirit. In a few words, maybe only one word, with the internet, many of us are connected to you.

You have shared this story, publically. May I share it if and when I find the spiritual place?

from John & Matthew's pastor.

[cosmolinguist]

I am thankful beyond words for the efforts everyone has gone to, to make me and my parents feel part of a network of love and support these days. I like that idea of a forcefield, too. :-)

And of course you may share this story; I am impressed that you would want to!

[cosmolinguist]

Thank you so much for leaving this comment, for following this little tragedy and letting me know. I cannot even begin to count how many times people have told me they're sorry, and while the pain is still there, knowing that we are not alone does seem to ease it. As much as anything can. That's one of the reasons it's so lovely to hear that random strangers have bothered to comment on these posts, and suchlike.

We've heard so many stories recently about how happy my brother could make people, so much that it's really hard to remember him any other way. He wasn't close to me, and not to my parents either, but he seems to have been to everybody else on the planet. :-) We're so happy, so amazed that he seemed to touch so many lives in such a positive way in his 21 years. We had basically nothing in common, but at least there was little out-and-out animosity. I remember him rather vaguely (at least how he was recently), but still fondly.

Even in his death it seems he's done good things: he's gotten my dad's brother's family to talk to us again, after a year and a half of no communication from them at all, he's gotten my grandma (and even, grudingly, my grandpa, after Grandma said he had to) to forgive their ex-son-in-law, on whom they'd placed all fault for the divorce ... he's gotten my parents and I, and our extended family, to hug and cry together, and while we're a rather close family, we were never one that showed much emotion to other family members. We have been this week, and while I'm sure that'll tame down, I'm also pretty sure that I'll still find it a little more easy to give my mom something like a hug, to my parents I love them even in my e-mails... Of course I'd rather have Chris here even if it meant we were distant forever, but since I'm now stuck here without him, it's nice to think that some small good has come of this.

I don't know, now that I think about it, how much of this is actually relevant to the comment you left. :-) But, yes, hug your sister for me, and while you'll never stop worrying, please enjoy what you have now.

[blob.livejournal.com]

Oh, don't worry about it being relevant. It was nice to read anyway, even though I didn't expect a reply to my comment. I'm pleased that even in death he has managed to help you come together like this.

I will definitely hug my sister lots when I next see her. :)