As I sit reflecting over the last 4 years, I see a journey that only I could walk; one filled with many valleys, and just a few moments of rest in a sea of grief, confusion, and deconstruction. There are endless lessons I have learned the hard way because well, let’s face it…I am stubborn. Yet, in the wake of another year without my brother, time has reminded me to take account of all that I have learned, and be advised of what still lies ahead.

Writing and singing have always been the best methods of sharing my heart. Yet, interestingly enough, I have seldom done either over the last few years. Unpacking and working through grief has been both exhausting and annoying. I grew up in an environment where expressing emotions like pain, grief, and disappointment were met with the abrupt direction to either ignore, or put on a face that things were fine. This, mixed with a faith that suggested this honesty was me ‘lacking faith’ to believe God to answer, or that I needed to quickly move to the mindset that ‘God will work it out,’ caused me to swiftly move past my feelings; creating an unhealthy depiction of how a person needs to move through grief and disappointment.

Sifting through the ashes, I see the growth, change, and new mindsets which were developed. I read through my last two blog posts, and I see the raw emotions of anger, disappointment, and also hope. I am a much different person today than the woman who wrote those posts several years ago. Yet both dispositions of my state of mind are healthy examples of walking through the stages of grief. Time doesn’t erase the grief, but it does allow the opportunity for me to either wallow in the depths of my pain, or allow the moments where grief visits me to bring me further healing.

I cannot believe this marks 4 years since losing Alex. Four years since I heard his voice, four years since his humor forced me to never stay mad at him, 4 years since I had a brother as my best friend, 4 years since being a complete family, and the list goes on. I had always envisioned my brother and I making so many memories between travel, business adventures, and even getting a chance to be an aunty. One aspect of grief I didn’t anticipate, is that the ideas of what ‘could have been’ or the ‘things I wanted to do’ with Alex, often sting just as much as the memories of missing him do.

There is no day that ends where I do not have Alex on my mind. His memories are etched in my soul and are my ways of keeping him alive in my life. I find myself not talking about him much to others because I realize people don’t always know what to say, or get tired of hearing about grief. The thing that others fail to realize, is that I also am tired of Alex being dead. I just don’t have the opportunity to walk away from the conversation like others do. Death is final on this side of Heaven, and when we lose loved ones, we often spend a lifetime coping with the hopeful expectation that we will see them again. If you are gifted with the blessing of someone inviting you in to their grief over a loved one, know that you likely are someone special, seen as trustworthy of handling the heavy moments that might be a part of the conversation.

For those who have a faith in God, often this is where grief stretches you the most. For me, I wrestled with what I actually believe versus what I was taught to regurgitate my entire life. Of all the disappointments, my trust and faith in God was tested the most. What I found at the end of this battle, is that every moment of anger, asking God all my ‘whys,’ telling Him exactly how I feel with no churchy etiquette to add fluff in my prayers, and journeying through the deconstruction of my beliefs…..only further solidified and grew my faith in Jesus. I may not be the person to jump and be overtly expressive in a church service or in a crowd of people….but I will be the first one to listen, be there in a tough time, or pray for you when you need someone. Not to mention, I will always have good music on deck to brighten the day!

How does this all relate to Alex? Well a part of grief is recognizing that at some point, I needed to find a way to live again. I can only imagine that this is what Al would have wanted from me. In times where grief enveloped me, I was reminded that I can honor his memory in the way I live and make new memories. I gave up singing after Alex passed, and I found the strength to sing again this year. The first place I sang again was in the very place I last sang for his funeral. I travel frequently like him and I wanted to do together. I took a chance at a job promotion and got it. I have a softer heart to understanding what others are going through. I made new friends, tried new hobbies, got involved at church again, have grown as a leader, value family time more, I speak my mind, and so many more. I am living again. The struggles and valleys are never ending, but I see growth, purpose, and direction again. My ashes are beautiful, and I look forward to how God molds and shapes them in the future.