[2021-08-22] Greg's day
When NFL coach Tony Dungy lost his son Jamie three days before Christmas, a chaplain flew to be with the family. He told them, "Life will never be the same again, but you won't always feel like you do right now."
I heard that quote the other day while listening to Charles Duhigg's The Power of Habit on my walk. I immediately thought of my brother Greg.
We lost Greg two years ago today. The chaplain's words are still ringing in my ears. Life is not the same without Greg, though I suppose I don't hurt quite as much as I did when he passed away.
But as I write this post, I am filled with sadness that he is no longer with us. I wish that I had done more to support him while he was alive, and to let him know that I would have done anything for him. I will always wonder whether I could have done or said something that might have made a difference.
I am surprised by the emotions that have come flooding back today. I thought that I was done with the tears, that I would simply remember Greg with fondness tinged with melancholy, that I could appreciate the years I did have with him.
But anniversaries are hard. And I suppose that it doesn't help that I am listening to a sorrowful Spotify playlist I put together when mourning him. Nevertheless, I don't know of any other way to honour his memory. And I can't feel anything but what I feel.
I have learned through comments on this blog that upbeat posts may be inspiring, but somber posts can be reassuring. We all experience loss, grief, sadness, regret. It is comforting to know that we are not alone, that others struggle with their emotions even years after the death of a loved one, that it does get easier with time.
When Greg died, I thought of the song "Into the West," which plays at the end of The Lords of the Rings: The Return of the King. It begins:
Lay down
Your sweet and weary head
The night is falling
You have come to journey's end
In the days following Greg's death, I couldn't listen to this song without sobbing. It took about four months before I could sit through the entire song without weeping.
Today, the tears returned. I'm reminded of Joshua Hyslop's "Let It Rain": "And if it rains | Well, let it fall | Let my heart be open wide." I am not afraid to feel sadness. I am not afraid to cry. I know that I will be able to carry on. And I know that Greg would want me to do just that.
After I finished the Spotify playlist In memory of Greg... Mourning, I created In memory of Greg... Celebrating. I added more songs today that Greg would have loved. He liked classic rock and was an accomplished musician himself, recording many of his own compositions.
Echoing another's words, I will remember Greg for his kindness, his generosity and his willingness to do whatever someone else needed. He was a great brother. We were lucky to have shared a life with him.
