The Wave of Grief

I hope my readers don’t mind, but the way I can cope with stressors in my life is to write. Right now, I have a lump in my stomach and it’s called grief. I have felt this before, many times before, and it has returned.

A few days ago, my brother was found dead in his home. No foul play, just natural causes. He was 67. A good man. A wonderful, loving brother. A football fanatic. If you mention his high school, he would light up and start talking about writing a book highlighting his exciting career as a Tucson High Badger. Besides his children and grandchildren, my brother loved his Badgers.  He would talk to me about co-writing this book, but unfortunately, I wasn’t as excited as he was. Oh, I love football…but I was not a Badger. I graduated from another high school across the city.

Anyway, the death of my brother was a total shock to me, not to mention my other siblings and his children. His oldest son, a very responsible young man, knew that something was wrong when he couldn’t find his dad. The result was ominous.

Yes, he is in a better place. He suffered from Diabetes, Type 1, which took both of his legs. However, my brother worked on an optimistic disposition despite his circumstances. After the death of our dad, my brother became a cornerstone for me. He kept tabs on me as much as he could; I sometimes did stupid things, and he came over and talked to me about situations and how to correct them. He tried to help me, and he did.

But, this grief…the grief I have comes and goes. I’m smiling at one moment and then the tidal wave wraps itself inside of my gut and lies there. It’s heavy and I feel like I’m going to throw up or pass out. I want quick relief: Tums, Pepto pexels-photo-568027.jpeg, something to relieve this bothersome rock. But, I thought about my brother’s smile whenever he saw me and he called my name and teased me about the distance of my home – “I have to pack a lunch when I drive out there” and then the flood happened. I melted. I bawled. Tears flowed from my eyes like a river and the ball of grief was released. Just like that, it was gone.

But, in time, it will return again. I know it will because it has been coming and going for a while now. Friends have been calling or texting asking how I am doing. Fortunately, when they contact me, the ball of grief is gone. But a few hours later, it decides to return – to grow. I cannot tell you when it will come, but it does appear again.

Losing a loved one is never easy. It’s inevitable. Within a few days, my family and I will say our final goodbye to my brother – it’s for us, the living, that we need to do this. In my Christian lifestyle, we believe in seeing our loved ones again. We believe that. I believe it, too. I have had dreams about my mother and dad to prove it. However, I have to admit, this hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

Losing my brother…feeling this pain…it hurts.

I hope he knew how much I loved him. He was my big brother.

The wave is coming. I have to go.

Author: L.S. Watson

Hi. My name is L.S. Watson, and I'm an English teacher at a charter high school. I enjoy traveling (my favorite places are Rome and Paris), writing poetry, and watching documentaries. I have a lovable yet stubborn Yorkie-Poo named Chuy.

2 thoughts on “The Wave of Grief”

  1. This was an awesome read Lisa! Yes indeed, you are an English teacher with a gift for writing. Through this loss, i pray you find the strength to press on and write those books even if they aren’t about football.

    Like

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