The strange face of gratitude

Almost nine days ago, on February 24, 2020 at 10:10 pm, my brother passed away. It was unexpected, as he had been getting slowly better with dialysis and his kidney function was improving. But one of his two catheters, the one that carried his bile out of the gall bladder, became infected and caused blood poisoning (also known as sepsis.) He became too weak to get out of bed, and to make a long story short, after police got to him, he was in bad shape and died later in hospital from septic shock.

I say this only to set the stage for all of the aftermath of his passing.

Free photo by Larisa-K at pixabay

My brother and I were as close as any brother and sister could be. He and I were like soul-mates. We thought alike, felt the same things, and had the same background. We "got" each other. Almost every day, separated by the miles, we talked for at least a half hour, sometimes as much as three hours. And we enjoyed ourselves to the full while doing so. It was a joy to talk to him, to watch him grow as a person, to share experiences and thoughts and hopes with him and he with me, to make plans together for the future, to talk of our love for God, for family, for animals, for nature, for music, and for life.

I miss him terribly. And time will not diminish the pain of that. Only Love can.

In the last few days, I have had the opportunity to look back and marvel at how many wonderful and miraculous things have happened. Leave alone the miracles in his own life: being cured of colon cancer in 2017, surviving two heart attacks (fall 2017 and winter 2019), and witnessing many other smaller miracles of the everyday. Just in his passing and the subsequent events arising from that, I have been able to be thankful for several things:

• He did not die alone and undiscovered. This was his greatest fear, and it was on a day when he was expected at a medical appointment (dialysis) that I finally got someone to check on him and knew enough to call 9-1-1.
• He was spared having to say goodbye to our mother.  He was anxious regarding how he would handle her death. She is still alive (although she has dementia), so he was spared this pain.
• He was ready.  He was finally moving toward feeling at ease in his own skin, and he was growing spiritually and so excited for the things he was learning about how to live life. There is no doubt in my mind that he is waiting for me on the other side, enjoying restored / perfect health and strength in everything that gave (and gives) him joy.
• My husband is retired, and he never left my side during this whole ordeal of going out of province, making arrangements, and greeting people I had not seen in decades (and whom he barely knew) - even though it is outside his comfort zone. That's love, and that heals.
• My daughter was able to stay home and look after the animals all week, and she, too, went outside her own comfort zone to come and attend the funeral with us. This is a huge deal for her, because the thought of losing people in her life makes her very anxious and panicky.
• My work situation is such that I was able to take the time off to make arrangements for his funeral, plus some time to decompress. My boss was unexpectedly understanding about the whole thing.
• Co-worker after co-worker ... each has expressed condolences on Facebook. They really do care. That blows me away.
• I was in the middle of taking a break from my studies when this happened. As a result, my schooling was not interrupted, and I didn't lose any marks for lack of concentration. My brother was so proud of me for taking steps to be a counselor. He rejoiced with me over every milestone. He would want me to graduate with full honors.
• The circumstances of his death, plus the communication with family and friends, re-established old ties long since given up for lost.
• The fact that he died in the winter meant that there was no committal service (graveside) and I was spared the stress and pain of seeing his body put in the ground, the hardest part of death rituals for me.
• The love from family and friends has been nothing short of miraculous and has even now already started the healing process.
• My psychologist is amazing. I saw her yesterday and poured out my heart regarding many of the above things - in detail - and she listened and supported me in my grieving process.

I could say much more, but I will stop there. All of those things (and more) has left me with something I never expected:  the strange face of gratitude in the middle of my suffering, in the process of my grief.  That does not mean that I am untouched by losing him. Rather, it means that I feel somehow honored to have been a part of his life for as long as he was here - with no regrets for having helped him as much as I could - and privileged to be a part of a circle of family and friends that, unknown to me, was there all along.

Gratitude is a strange response to grief. But here I am. Grateful. And grieving. But grateful.