The Empty House
I feel like a broken record, but add this to yet another tough weekend for me. I had set an important date for this weekend. My brother’s house has been sitting cold and as much as I wish I could keep the house, turn it into a mausoleum, even if just to spare us the pain of remembering what we lost, the practical world requires we move on from it. I had to do the adult thing and ask the kids to come over one last time to make sure they grabbed everything they wanted. I waited for holidays to roll through like it would make it easier, it didn’t.
The previous week I went over and spent some time in my brother’s room. I packed his clothes away by myself quietly reminiscing about shirts and hoodies I’d seen him wear. I kept most of them, I can always go through it later to get rid of some stuff but there was something heart warming about packing it away to take it with me, like moving him in with me.
When I arrived today, the kids were already there with their mom. They were in good spirits; they reminisced a lot as they uncovered old toys and laughed about memories they shared.
The Christmas tree was still up from last year. We finally took it down carefully packing away ornaments. Many things in the house hadn’t moved from last winter, frozen in time.
There wasn’t a lot that the kids still had left there but I don’t think that was really the point. It was the memories that they found that meant the most. The spot on the ceiling where they had accidentally gotten pizza sauce, the #1 dad scrawled on the kitchen wall in permanent marker, the light scratches from Mew, their dad’s cat, on all of their doors.
And if they were just moving out of the house, it might be a bit somber, but there would always be the promise of making new memories with dad and now that would never be the case again. His memory would be erased from that house in a way that’s irreversible. I can’t really imagine what that pain feels like for two thirteen year old kids, but I could see the impact of the loss on their faces as we shuffled out of the house for the last time.
I wondered if it felt like it did to me. Eddie dying all over again.
As an adult, I can barely tolerate the pain, what must that do to a child’s heart and mind? The thought crushes me.
***
The Empty Seat at the Table
Last night I went over to my friends place to keep her company. She and her husband were much closer to our friend TK who passed away less than a week ago. We cracked open some wine and laughed and chatted about all sorts of things. I came back around 3am dreading today, but really happy my friend got a little break in her grief. Melissa messaged me later to tell me how thankful she was because she needed it. I love her and her husband so much – they are some of my longest friends.
Her husband Chad I met when we were both still in college. The night he came over to play games he brought with him a loud jolly looking guy named TK. The two of them both had huge belly laughs that could fill the room.
I think that’s my favorite thing about the friends I made from that era of my life. Most of us were not afraid to stay connected to our inner child. We didn’t care if people thought going to game tournaments or hanging out till 3 in the morning getting drunk and watching anime was juvenile. We liked what we liked and we shared it with so much joy and laughter in our hearts. The memories we made kept us in contact for years after college wrapped up. Our lives changed; we matured, bought houses, had kids, established careers, but our commitment to having fun never ended.
To this day we still get together and play games. They’re newer or differ but we also still talk about movies and anime, get drunk together, it just looks a little different, and we just do it a little less. And though, we have shared a lot with one another over the years, the one thing we haven’t shared is the pain of loss.
TK died leaving his wife behind. He was 33 and had just gotten a new job. He had an extremely rough childhood and a crazy narcissistic mother, but he was proud of himself for building a life despite all of that anyway. He too had lost his brother a few years back. He shared some of that in a tender moment between he and I and I’ll never forget that. I had looked forward to talking with him more and now that will never be, but I do hold some of the love he shared in my heart and it is something I can draw from going forward.
Chad, Feher, TK and Tyler had done a once a month Magick the Gathering night for years. They’d gather around a small table and play cards like they had since they were kids; now an empty seat remains. The thought broke my heart.
On the day I found out about TK, I group messaged them, and told them how TK had reached out to me when my brother died, that he was that kind of good human, and that I wanted to pass along the sentiment. I let them know, if they ever wanted to talk, I would be there to listen and I mean it.
I want to do better. I want to be better at allowing people to be emotional in front of me and I want to get better at allowing myself to be emotional in front of them. Maybe it’s the next step in my evolution, maybe this event, though painful, can be a beautiful catalyst for growth in all of us. To be honest, I think it’s already working and what a beautiful legacy to leave behind. Thanks TK, we’ll be sure to take care of Andi, bro.
***
The Empty Womb
I know that grief can cause physical changes too. The heart can actually be damaged, inflammation flares up in the body as it responds to stress. The ob/gyn appt I had, the doctor initially mentioned that I might have had PID (pelvic inflammatory disease) that resolved on its own because there is as scarring on my cervix, which isn’t normal.
If you look up PID online most of the resources will tell you it’s often caused by STDs. I had a moment of panic earlier this week about that, but because of my past I have always been excruciatingly careful with getting regular health check-ups. I have been tested and tested for STDs and have always been negative. My last well-woman exam a little over a year ago was normal as well and I have barely had sex this year and only with R.
When I asked the doc about all this she told me its actually more common for normal bacteria to flare up for who knows what reason (hm maybe stress?) and sometimes they never find the cause at all. She said for the most part I am fine other than the scarring which in theory shouldn’t interfere with fertility but I’ll have to go back in a few months to check for any changes that could indicate cancer cells. All of this elicits complicated feelings about myself and my fertility at a time I can barely keep my head above water. Just the idea that things were going on in my body that I wasn’t aware of…damaging things…because I was too focused on my mental anguish… just more examples of me dropping the ball. I can’t seem to keep up with anything can I?
I am curious to see if I’ll start to uncover more surprise changes in my body – evidence of the year of hell I’ve been through. I’ve been scarred both on the inside and out. And I find myself exhausted, a level of exhaustion I don’t think I’ve ever felt before. My neck/head pain is back, with the same intensity that sent me to urgent care a year go. I am managing though I could barely move my neck all weekend – I can feel the muscles pulled tight with stress.
Despite all of that. I made a promise in my New Years post. A promise that I’ll keep fighting, keep trying to stay here. But I’m worried that my body is starting to break down from all the heartache – the continuous stress. Right now I can barely keep my eyes open and I’m somewhat ashamed to admit, part of me wishes that I could slip away in my sleep too, like my brother, or TK, or even my cat.
***
The Emptiness
On my way home from my brother’s house this weekend my thoughts started to ricochet from one loss to another. My brother, my cat, my friend. The look on the twins’s faces, the look on my cat’s face, the last time I saw my brother, the tears in my friends eyes as they talked about TK. I could hardly breathe. I don’t know how I maintained composure sitting quietly next to R as he drove us home. I suppose I am used to having these complicated thoughts and feelings inside my own head but I struggled to contain it.
R wanted to take a nap when we got home which I’m thankful for because I needed the time to myself. My heart is so broken today for so many reasons I started to wonder if I might fall asleep and never wake up – can you die from a broken heart?
Part of it is also anxiety. Spending time with my friend, I realized just how much I love them and that everything just feels so uncertain right now. Like any one of them might just drop off the face of the planet. Dead to covid, or heart disease, car accident, who fucking knows.
I felt this way after my brother died, like there was still more, like someone else was going to drop dead at any moment. Now the feeling is 10x worse.
To brace myself, I am feeling a mixture of intense neediness and wanting to pull away and isolate. Oscillating between the two extremes is dizzying. I want to curl up into a ball and never talk to anyone again; but I know that if I have any hope of fighting these feelings, I have to connect with people.
It’s just, connection hurts so much – but what do I expect? If it’s not this deep emptiness inside…its pain. I just can’t seem to find my way out of the dark forest – but I’ll keep hoping, I’ll keep trying for as long as possible.