Coming to Terms Part 2
It's so cold here in Indiana that I now believe it's time for winter even though the official start of winter is still a couple weeks away. There is to be a slight bit of a warm front coming through our area but I don't really think it's going to matter really. I suspect we'll have some even colder days in the weeks to come. Really wouldn't surprise me at all right now.
It's been a tough couple of weeks. I know that I wrote about Billy's last days in my last post. I plan on going over the events that happened after his passing in this one. It's important to me to document how I felt and what I have been up to, just as I have been doing throughout this blog for the past year. When the time comes to write Billy's story, I know this blog will play a large part in that story because it holds my words and feelings about the events. More than likely I will return to the regular format of my posts because I feel I need to have that small bit of structure to help me deal with the changes that I am having to make in the routine of my days. Billy was a large, large part of my life and the things I did throughout the day. Even now it's hard for me to go through the day without wanting to pick up the phone and call him just to see how he's doing or talk about something I have seen on tv or online that I think he'd enjoy. I catch myself picking up the phone, finger ready to press those buttons, before I remember he's not there anymore. Or I'll be talking about plans and want to include him but I can't. I know in my rational part of thinking that it will take time. I just have to be willing to allow myself the time to cry and grieve so that I can move on to honoring him.
The day that Billy died, I was upset and yet relieved at the same time. My mother and I had both been in agreement that we thought Billy wouldn't be coming home this time around. So in a way, we were preparing ourselves for the eventuality of his passing away. And yet on the morning of November 24th, it was still a shock and a complete world change nonetheless. After his last breath, the nurse and respiratory technician led us out of the room so they could clean his body before we said goodbye one more time. As I sat out in the waiting room, I heard the soft, tinkling music that the maternity ward plays whenever a baby has been born. To me, it confirmed that for every life that ends on this earth, a new one begins. Whether one believes in reincarnation or whatever their faith's version of life after death, there is always a cycle of birth, death, and rebirth. Hearing those few, soft notes made me smile because I knew someone was going to have precious memories to savour through rough times. A short time later, the nurse returned for us. My family and I walked into the room where Billy had spent the final weeks of his life. All the machines that prolonged his life had been removed, the tubes and IVs taken from his body. He had been cleaned as best as the nurses could through their own tears. Many of the nurses on several floors of our local hospital have attended to Billy's needs at some point over the past eleven years. The nurse that sat with us told us what would happen next and helped to arrange a meeting time at the funeral home.
The day after Billy's death, Chris and I met Mom and Dad at the funeral home to help make the arrangements. I knew Mom and Dad didn't sleep the night before. I could see the dark circles under their eyes as well as see the sadness, longing and grief reflected within thier eyes when they looked at me. As we stepped into the funeral home, I remember feeling as though I was going to be sick all over the pale green carpet that lined the floors. We were all led to a conference room where the wonderful and genuinely sincere funeral director laid out the options from which we could choose the most appropriate service. I was able to find the two Metallica songs that I had promised Billy we would have played at his service no matter what and they were very wonderully done with cellos by classical musicians. The public viewing was set for the following Monday with the funeral services Tuesday (11/28).
I was glad to have visited my family doctor before Billy's actual passing because I truly needed the medication that he prescribed me. I wasn't really able to sleep without it. On Monday, Chris surprised me by meeting my best friend whom I call a "sister" from the airport in Indianapolis. When Chris called everyone the day Billy passed, she made plans to fly here to be with my family and I throughout everything. It was a very welcomed surprise even though I wish it had been under different circumstances. Her being here helped me to focus a bit more on something other than the obvious. There were a lot of people who stopped by the funeral home, many more than I thought even knew who Billy was. There were some people that I didn't think even cared about Billy or my family. I was glad to have had those pleasant surprises. The funeral services on Tuesday were a little harder to get through. The eulogy given by Billy's pastor was beautiful and gave my mom and dad a message of hope. They truly needed something to hold onto and I'm glad that they have it now. When I saw a couple of people at the funeral services that I never expected them to be there, I broke down and cried. I truly feel loved to know that people would set aside an hour to help me and my family through some of the hardest times.
We followed the procession out to the cemetary. Billy was placed just a few steps away from where my maternal grandfather and great-grandmother lay. There is also a large statue of Jesus looking over my brother's resting place. Mom and Dad decided that is where they feel most comfortable in placing Billy's grave as well as their own next to him. Mom and I walked behind the pallbearers that included my other younger brother, Andy, as well as my father and Chris. Once the casket was set onto the lowering device, we sat on the fabric covered folding chairs as the pastor read a few more passages from the Bible and prayed. There was the awkward moment of silence before the funeral director plucked roses from the spray on his casket and handed one to each family member. It was then that we hugged those who had stayed to the very end of the service and thanked them. Mom and Dad left the cemetary to pick up the flower arrangements from the funeral and take them to the hospital as well as the doctors' offices of Billy's doctors. Chris, myself, Andy, and close family friend that we all called our adopted brother, Charlie, stayed behind as the casket was lowered into the grave. Chris put a handful of dirt onto the grave. I tossed in a few rose petals after I kissed them goodbye. Charlie tossed in a rose. I'm not sure what Andy did because I had turned from the grave. We all hugged, made promises to keep in touch, and went our separate ways for a while. Chris and I took my "sister" to lunch before she was to catch her flight back home to Texas. We arrived home after the sun had gone down. At the end of the day, I slept without the aid of the sleeping medication because I was exhausted mentally, physically and emotionally.
The last week has been a time of adjustment and learning. I am still having trouble sleeping at night. I keep seeing Billy's face and then the knowledge that his body is in the ground makes me want to go and see that he is warm. Even though I know he's no longer alive, I still want to take care of him and make sure he's alright. I have moments where I miss him so bad that I get sick to my stomach. I cry until my eyes burn and tears refuse to squeeze from them anymore. I sob until the back of my throat aches and I can't breathe steadily, only in gulps. Chris holds me and lets me cry or leaves me be for a little while until he knows I need him. I think I've heard every cliched saying possible in the last few weeks, but you know, they still comfort me. No matter how many times I hear or read an email where someone says they're sorry for my loss and they're praying for me, it comforts me. Guess I'm at a point where I'll take what I can get. At least for now.
Love and blessings,
Kim
It's been a tough couple of weeks. I know that I wrote about Billy's last days in my last post. I plan on going over the events that happened after his passing in this one. It's important to me to document how I felt and what I have been up to, just as I have been doing throughout this blog for the past year. When the time comes to write Billy's story, I know this blog will play a large part in that story because it holds my words and feelings about the events. More than likely I will return to the regular format of my posts because I feel I need to have that small bit of structure to help me deal with the changes that I am having to make in the routine of my days. Billy was a large, large part of my life and the things I did throughout the day. Even now it's hard for me to go through the day without wanting to pick up the phone and call him just to see how he's doing or talk about something I have seen on tv or online that I think he'd enjoy. I catch myself picking up the phone, finger ready to press those buttons, before I remember he's not there anymore. Or I'll be talking about plans and want to include him but I can't. I know in my rational part of thinking that it will take time. I just have to be willing to allow myself the time to cry and grieve so that I can move on to honoring him.
The day that Billy died, I was upset and yet relieved at the same time. My mother and I had both been in agreement that we thought Billy wouldn't be coming home this time around. So in a way, we were preparing ourselves for the eventuality of his passing away. And yet on the morning of November 24th, it was still a shock and a complete world change nonetheless. After his last breath, the nurse and respiratory technician led us out of the room so they could clean his body before we said goodbye one more time. As I sat out in the waiting room, I heard the soft, tinkling music that the maternity ward plays whenever a baby has been born. To me, it confirmed that for every life that ends on this earth, a new one begins. Whether one believes in reincarnation or whatever their faith's version of life after death, there is always a cycle of birth, death, and rebirth. Hearing those few, soft notes made me smile because I knew someone was going to have precious memories to savour through rough times. A short time later, the nurse returned for us. My family and I walked into the room where Billy had spent the final weeks of his life. All the machines that prolonged his life had been removed, the tubes and IVs taken from his body. He had been cleaned as best as the nurses could through their own tears. Many of the nurses on several floors of our local hospital have attended to Billy's needs at some point over the past eleven years. The nurse that sat with us told us what would happen next and helped to arrange a meeting time at the funeral home.
The day after Billy's death, Chris and I met Mom and Dad at the funeral home to help make the arrangements. I knew Mom and Dad didn't sleep the night before. I could see the dark circles under their eyes as well as see the sadness, longing and grief reflected within thier eyes when they looked at me. As we stepped into the funeral home, I remember feeling as though I was going to be sick all over the pale green carpet that lined the floors. We were all led to a conference room where the wonderful and genuinely sincere funeral director laid out the options from which we could choose the most appropriate service. I was able to find the two Metallica songs that I had promised Billy we would have played at his service no matter what and they were very wonderully done with cellos by classical musicians. The public viewing was set for the following Monday with the funeral services Tuesday (11/28).
I was glad to have visited my family doctor before Billy's actual passing because I truly needed the medication that he prescribed me. I wasn't really able to sleep without it. On Monday, Chris surprised me by meeting my best friend whom I call a "sister" from the airport in Indianapolis. When Chris called everyone the day Billy passed, she made plans to fly here to be with my family and I throughout everything. It was a very welcomed surprise even though I wish it had been under different circumstances. Her being here helped me to focus a bit more on something other than the obvious. There were a lot of people who stopped by the funeral home, many more than I thought even knew who Billy was. There were some people that I didn't think even cared about Billy or my family. I was glad to have had those pleasant surprises. The funeral services on Tuesday were a little harder to get through. The eulogy given by Billy's pastor was beautiful and gave my mom and dad a message of hope. They truly needed something to hold onto and I'm glad that they have it now. When I saw a couple of people at the funeral services that I never expected them to be there, I broke down and cried. I truly feel loved to know that people would set aside an hour to help me and my family through some of the hardest times.
We followed the procession out to the cemetary. Billy was placed just a few steps away from where my maternal grandfather and great-grandmother lay. There is also a large statue of Jesus looking over my brother's resting place. Mom and Dad decided that is where they feel most comfortable in placing Billy's grave as well as their own next to him. Mom and I walked behind the pallbearers that included my other younger brother, Andy, as well as my father and Chris. Once the casket was set onto the lowering device, we sat on the fabric covered folding chairs as the pastor read a few more passages from the Bible and prayed. There was the awkward moment of silence before the funeral director plucked roses from the spray on his casket and handed one to each family member. It was then that we hugged those who had stayed to the very end of the service and thanked them. Mom and Dad left the cemetary to pick up the flower arrangements from the funeral and take them to the hospital as well as the doctors' offices of Billy's doctors. Chris, myself, Andy, and close family friend that we all called our adopted brother, Charlie, stayed behind as the casket was lowered into the grave. Chris put a handful of dirt onto the grave. I tossed in a few rose petals after I kissed them goodbye. Charlie tossed in a rose. I'm not sure what Andy did because I had turned from the grave. We all hugged, made promises to keep in touch, and went our separate ways for a while. Chris and I took my "sister" to lunch before she was to catch her flight back home to Texas. We arrived home after the sun had gone down. At the end of the day, I slept without the aid of the sleeping medication because I was exhausted mentally, physically and emotionally.
The last week has been a time of adjustment and learning. I am still having trouble sleeping at night. I keep seeing Billy's face and then the knowledge that his body is in the ground makes me want to go and see that he is warm. Even though I know he's no longer alive, I still want to take care of him and make sure he's alright. I have moments where I miss him so bad that I get sick to my stomach. I cry until my eyes burn and tears refuse to squeeze from them anymore. I sob until the back of my throat aches and I can't breathe steadily, only in gulps. Chris holds me and lets me cry or leaves me be for a little while until he knows I need him. I think I've heard every cliched saying possible in the last few weeks, but you know, they still comfort me. No matter how many times I hear or read an email where someone says they're sorry for my loss and they're praying for me, it comforts me. Guess I'm at a point where I'll take what I can get. At least for now.
Love and blessings,
Kim
posted by Kim @ 7:15 PM
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