Grief hits you like a tsunami. The force with which it strikes is formidable and it just keeps on coming, in tidal waves. Incessant.

Yesterday I buried my brother. He took his life just three weeks ago.

I write this as I am sitting on a plane on my way back from Australia, the return leg of a trip I made just two days ago. I am heartbroken.To me, life in recovery is one of authenticity and truth; and that means that I share all of me in the hope that it might help someone. I want to share my experience of grief, how I have coped, and that, despite being shaken to the core, it has strengthened my resolve and my recovery.

As an adult, I haven’t experienced the grief of losing a family member. I recall the death of my grandparents as a child; whilst I felt sadness and some sense of loss, I was more concerned by my mother’s sorrow. Children are so resilient, and I was able to move on relatively quickly. The grief I experience as an adult is a different beast altogether.

Grief hits you like a tsunami. The force with which it strikes is formidable and it just keeps on coming, in tidal waves. Incessant. I cannot fathom what has happened. I feel like I have lost my mind. Small tasks seem overwhelming. Decisions impossible. And all sense of time and purpose is gone, washed away. It is like walking upstairs for something, getting there and not knowing why. Over and over again.

As I twirl his ring around my thumb and look over at his hat sitting on the seat next to me—mementos I took from his house—tears roll down my face. I feel his loss. This is the end point. I’ve said my goodbyes. I have paid my respects, and I am on my way home. Sadness, guilt, and anger wash over me. I cannot believe he is gone.

I should’ve made more of an effort.

I wish I knew he was feeling this way.

I am a terrible sister. Read more “the fix”…