On September 27, I lost a piece of my heart. My big brother died suddenly in a motorcycle accident. In the weeks that followed, my tribe came around me and held me up. Cared for my son, washed my clothes and fulfilled commitments I could not.
I don’t know how I walked through these weeks, I hope with grace, patience and love on my lips. I felt him whispering to me “stay strong sis” & “have a good cry, Stumpy” – his voice is in my head at night.
When asked how I am, I can only say “upright.” My days are only marked by wet or dry days. My grief is written on every moment of the day, I know it will lesson as scar tissue forms but for now, I can still see my pulse in the wound.
It is strange how old wounds open, with a new pain. I have turned to my journals, my family, friends and inward as I work through these tough days.
I hope in the days and weeks to come to journal here about the journey of my season of grief.