The Hard but Good and All The Firsts

It was 5 months ago today I lost my brother.  That first night of our vacation we were so excited about. That night. That phone call. That spine chilling gut wrenching phone call night.  He's gone. Gone? What does that mean?!  Passed away. Dead.
 Suddenly, unexpectedly gone.

The next morning was Canada Day and one of the main reasons why we were on vacation. Less than 24 hrs later. A full day of festivities planned with the grandkids.  How could Canada Day go on?  I know Paul would have wanted me to celebrate Canada Day as he was very patriotic and especially to enjoy my grandkids as he adored his own. But it should be cancelled. Couldn't we just stop a minute or at least press pause?  Don't they (all of Canada) know how wrong this is?!  Walking through crowds of people with my brain in a fog, I try to stay in the moment and grounded as I watch them sway to the band, cheer on the parade and joyfully play bean bag toss.  The bean bags fly through the air in slow motion. At least the tears shed in the dark of the fireworks will not be seen. A whole full day!  Full of life, celebration and fun (especially with those girls who make all right with my world) and yet death and devastation. What is real?
 I will carry Paul with me every Canada Day from now on just like that first.

I've had so many losses I know all about the firsts after a dear one passes. The first birthday, the first Christmas, the first family get together and anniversary etc. but I never expected or heard of this one before.  The first dental appointment. A few weeks ago I had a dental appointment.  Just a simple cleaning. I rushed there right from work. I was fine and totally relaxed until the questions started.

Dentist: "So have there been any changes since the last time you were in?"
Me with a big smile on my face:  "No, no changes at all."
Me on the inside: "My whole life has changed! My brother died and I hate this!"

Dentist:  "Are you experiencing any sensitivity or pain?"
Me with a bigger smile on my face: "Not, it's all good."
Me on the inside starting to panic a little: "Pain? Pain?!!  It's excruciating and I can't make it go away!"

You get the picture.  Grief. You never know how or when it's going to hit. I made it through my appointment just fine but was taken aback with my sudden reaction and inner turmoil with none around me the wiser.

Then the first sibling get together.  All of us for the first time since that night.  All of us except for Paul. His absence, the void, is LOUD but I can't turn down the volume. He should be here helping us with this. Instead we have Paul's ashes. It's real.

   So good to all be together. We have the gift of each other.  The pain is intense because the love is intense. And then there were 5. So hard.

The following weekend we went together to scatter some of his ashes. Once more finding  comfort and strength in each other when having to accomplish one of the hardest things ever.  I held onto some of that fine white ash in the palm of my hand for a very long time. Gently stroking my finger over it  again and again,  trying desperately to give him one last hug before letting go. I watched it seep into the lines of my hand absorbing into my skin, just before releasing him and surrendering him to his resting place. A place he loved. So majestic and peaceful.  As soon as we were all done a flock of snow geese flew by in formation. I have never seen anything like that in my life. A final salute and send off. A gift from God. The hard but good in it all.                                                                                           

Photo does not do it justice.  All in awe as the geese flew by.
I almost saluted. Wish I had.

We finished off with a stop at a quaint country cafe.  Comforted by warmth, food and fellowship.  Cheese curds and maple syrup were amongst some of the treats we purchased. A taste of home. Paul would have wanted it that way and I think he would have been proud of us.

Next weekend is my niece's annual Christmas party. I look forward to it every year. I realize Paul won't be there. Here comes that familiar feeling of anticipation or excitement and dread all mushed in together. I guess I should try and get used to it. Thinking of the party, I have a vivid memory of Paul that warms my heart. He liked his Molson Canadian beer and they often have good promo deals,  so he would collect them all year long and hand them out to us at Christmas. I can just see him sitting there with that big Dussault grin on his face, reminding me of a cross between my dad and Oprah.... and one for you and one for you and one for you...Last year we got a cooler bag which we use all the time and the year before my favourite t-shirt. It is the most comfortable one I own and I wear it almost nightly as a jammie shirt. I just looked down and yes, I am wearing it now.  I have already been thinking about how hard it's going to be to let it go once it wears out.

I don't know how to end this. I guess because the hard but good and all the firsts aren't done yet. It's only been 5 months. The season continues for a time.