In the beginning, the ache of a brother gone from this Earth, was overwhelming. It often felt as if it was hard to breathe; like the wind had been knocked out of me. In the midst of a laugh, or the experience of a new memory, I would suddenly "remember" that Todd was gone and my breath would be gone. It was constant. As if I was having to learn to breathe all over again, along with learning to live life without him. There was a constant ache.
Time has provided a bit of a release from that pressure. It must be a new "stage" of the grieving process. The ache isn't as sharp, yet it is still always present. I feel it most in the happiest moments, when I want to call him and tell him what just happened. I feel it also when I anticipate upcoming plans. I am eager to do something and I want to share that eagerness, often with Todd. It is hard to not be able to hear his response to thoughts. I find myself looking off to Heaven, sharing my stories, trusting that God is relaying them to him.
The silent ache is the evidence of my deep love for my brother; my longing to share life with him. There is the reoccuring shock that life from now on won't include him. I look forward to that day when we are reunited in Heaven. I know we will be able to catch up then. Oh, but there will be so much to say.
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