This has been a long week.
Since traveling to Saskatchewan on Wednesday, it has been a whirlwind. We’ve been grieving the loss of Brenda, my sister-in-law, after she succumbed to a complication of a knee surgery.
The Medical Examiner did come back to us with a Cause of Death. Apparantly she developed a clot from her knee surgery the week before, and it became dislodged and ended up in her lung, causing near instant death.
A knee scope is supposed to be one of the most minor surgeries that someone can go through. This should not have happened.
However, it did, and is leaving the survivors devastated trying to comprehend the loss of such a bright, outgoing, giving person.
I’m still trying to come to terms with this senseless loss. I’m trying to process how God can come down, and take someone otherwise healthy. I’m trying to process my feelings and thoughts and emotions while still be strong enough to support my wife and mother-in-law.
I know I’ve been avoiding. I’ve been hiding behind my keyboard catching up on work. I’ve been processing photos and writing stories.
I wish I can process my emotions the same way that I process my photos for publication. Hit a few keys, change a few settings, and save it to the computer.
Unfortunately it’s not that simple. Grieving is a process, not a destination. The next weeks and months are going to be a challenge for all of us. It’s going to be painful. The dumbest thing will bring memories of Brenda flooding to the surface. That is the nature of grief.
I know I have to walk a line over the next few months. I need to be there for Lynn and her mom. I need to grieve as well though. This is a big loss for all of us. I can’t let my grief overtake me. I can’t let my mental health suck me back down into the abyss. I can’t do that to Lynn.
“Go on living, don’t stop living, find something to put your heart into…” are the lyrics in Trace Adkins song “If the Sun Comes up.” These lyrics are particularly poignant at this time. “If the Sun comes up without me tomorrow, you’ll be fine, let it shine on you.”
Losing Brenda hurts. It hurts all of us, and it hurts lots.
Hurting doesn’t stop the world continuing to turn. We’re going to remember Brenda as full of life. We’re going to remember her smile. Her love of dogs. The sun will rise tomorrow, and we will heal. We will remember, but we will never forget.