Grief. Going. Healing.

Let’s start with a joke. I think my brother would have loved it and would have sent it to me. The joke is partially what has inspired this post.

Why do Ewoks never shout in the house?

They have to use their Endor voices.

I remember after my brother died, the question I hated most to answer was “How are you doing?”. Most people asked how my parents were doing instead of me and so I was able to dodge the bullet of answering how I was. The times people asked, I was often left wondering how do I answer this? Do they really care? Do they really want to know the truth? Are they just asking to be polite? Do they need to know I have friends who Facetime me to make sure I’m eating? Do they want to know that I have friends who are texting me daily reminding me to drink water? How do I answer this??

Grief comes in waves. Triggers come randomly. Sometimes I know I’m about to be triggered. Other times it comes out of left field, and I am left in a panic trying to decide do I show emotion, do I show all of the anxiety coursing through my body as I fight off the trigger? If someone notices that something is off, how do I even answer?

One of those triggers was the joke above. Another one came last Saturday night watching a movie with some of the kids who live at the school. Action and suspense movies are the way to go when watching a movie here. You don’t need to be able to completely understand the words to understand what is happening. The movie they chose to watch was The Impossible. The movie is based on the true events of the tsunami that hit Thailand the day after Christmas in 2004. I should have known I was in for trouble when one of the main characters shared the same name as my brother, Thomas. As the movie progressed, you saw the tragedy that unfolded from the tsunami. You saw families finding dead loved ones. You saw families that were desperately trying to find the loved ones they were separated from during the tsunami and the aftermath. The mom of the main family ends up getting a medivac to Singapore for her injuries. This is where the true trigger started. I can still feel the nails dug into the palm of my right hand while I waited for the movie to finish.

You see, my brother had Covid-19 while the delta variant was running rampant. He got the last hospital bed in our area. Thomas went in the hospital on a Wednesday and a week and a half later, he died. During that time, his condition continued to deteriorate at a pace that didn’t make sense. The Thursday before he died, he was in respiratory failure. We were told his best chance of survival was to receive extracorporeal membrane oxygenation or ECMO for short. Our home state was out of available machines with waiting lists for all of them. The hospital had assured us there was a medical flight available to take Thomas to wherever we could find him treatment. Family and friends called hospitals all over the United States trying to find an available machine. Some states had the machine available but were not letting anyone from a different state use it. We finally found a hospital in Utah that had a machine and was willing to save it for Thomas given we got him there within a certain time frame. After issues with a medical flight to take him, we finally had a plane big enough to take him and all the oxygen needed to get him to Utah.

The head of the medical crew was preparing my family to say goodbye to Thomas prior to the plane taking off. He informed us Thomas was incredibly sick and that he wasn’t even sure Thomas would survive the flight. He told us the flight crew already had a secondary landing spot planned should Thomas crash midflight. He told us we would need to go onto the plane to say our last goodbye in case Thomas didn’t make it. Before we were able to board the plane to say goodbye, Thomas’ chest tube came out. He was rushed to the closest major hospital. He went into cardiac arrest before arriving at the hospital. Once at the hospital, the staff did all they could, but my brother didn’t make it. My big, overprotective, brother died that day.

Immediately after he died, I was able to answer the question of “How are you doing?”, with a blank stare or an I don’t know. People didn’t bat an eye. But as time progressed, people expected a better answer. Two years later and I know most people aren’t asking or even care how my grieving process is when they ask the dreaded 4 worded question. But if they did, how do you answer the question especially after days or weeks where your grief is constantly triggered?

I’ve landed on the word “griefy”. All of you are about to come at me about how griefy isn’t a word. As I type this, my computer is continuously underlining it in red. I think griefy should be a word. On the days my grief has been triggered and I miss my brother, it’s not the same as it was this time two years ago. It’s not debilitating like it was after he passed, but it’s a greater feeling than just sadness. It’s being able to get up and function and do all the things you have to do, but knowing the real possibility that as soon as you can go home and take off your brave face, there will be tears. Grief isn’t just missing the person. It’s missing the person and all of the things they should have been there for. It’s missing all of the things that person should have gotten to experience and do but doesn’t because they are no longer here. It’s missing being able to tell them about all of the crazy adventures you are having overseas.

Scripture is clear that if we confess with our mouths that Jesus is Lord and believe in our hearts that God raised Him from the dead, we will be saved. Thomas did that. He confessed Jesus as Lord and believed God raised Him from the dead. Thomas was forgiven of his sins, and I have no doubt that Thomas is in Heaven with One who made him. Thomas lived his life for the Lord and ran his race well. Scripture is also clear that one day, there will be no more tears and no more sorrow. I’m looking forward to that day. I’m looking forward to the day that I’ll be reunited with my brother in Heaven, But until then, whenever grief is hard… When I miss my brother… When it’s a holiday or a special day… If someone asks me ‘How I’m doing?”, my answer is going to be griefy. Today I’m a little griefy.