My brother recorded a message, maybe 2 or 3 weeks before he died, for his kids. Because the recorder wasn’t really all that good and the fact that he couldn’t really talk properly (due to various kinds of muscle relaxants he was on to ease the pain), the message was warbled and even in some places it was sped up.
A friend of mine who has a recording studio was kind enough to fix the tape. There were parts that my sister in law couldn’t even understand before, and now they are perfectly clear. It means the world to us, that his kids will be able to understand his message.
I haven’t listened to it yet. I’m terrified. I’m so scared that I’ll never be able to stop crying if I do listen to it. The fact that he’s not here, is a completely bizarre feeling to me. I look back at those last few months and think - did that really happen? Did I really go through all of that and I’m still standing? I’m still going to work everyday? I’m still functioning on a very basic level? How?
It’s only been 4 months. Sometimes it feels like an eternity. Sometimes it feels like it was just yesterday. Mostly it just feels surreal. I STILL expect to see him when I go visit the kids, and in a way I do, because I see him, in them. And when I’m there his absence is just so glaring. And yet, I convince myself, he’s just out for the day, he’s not really dead.
There were 3 people in my life, who were required to love me, no matter what. And now I’m down to 2. I could always fuck up, push them away, yell at them, tell them what’s what and they would always be there (and vice versa). The thought of having one less person who’s required to stick it out, makes me sad on so many levels, that I can’t even really express it in words. Mostly I’m just scared of losing anything more.
This may seem stupid but I thought that I was handling this all, well at least, okay. But I’m really not at all. Next week I’m going to spend some time trying to find a grief counselor that my insurance will cover and that is in my area.
The denial period of my grieving needs to stop here. And then maybe one day I’ll have the courage to listen to that message.