These are the words I would say....

Ah, Labor Day weekend. A respite for most from the work-, school-, full-of-duties typical week. A promise of (hopefully) cooler weather on the way and favorite hoodies making their return. But for me, it brings back a rush of memories and things I sometimes try to forget. 16 years ago today, my brother took his own life. It's better to just go ahead and get that awkwardness out of the way. "Passed away" really doesn't ring true in these types of circumstances. Now, don't put on your obligatory sympathetic face. In 16 years, it's amazing how much you process and accept. That being said, there are certain aspects of his death that get more difficult for me as I grow older. I am not sure why that is or exactly which part of my recessed brain has been activated with the passing of time. Definitely not the practical short-term memory part. Nevertheless, this time of year creeps up on me and then blasts me with its reality each first weekend in September. My mom said the other day that you can feel it in the air. It's true. If you have ever gone through a tragedy or loss, you well know that grief cycles yet has no solid formula for each individual. Yes, there is a similar pattern of feelings, but grief seems to show itself differently according to our dispositions, thought patterns, and circumstances. Tricky little bugger, grief.

So here I am this year, noticing the more melancholy feelings in myself, searching for the trigger until...aha! Labor Day. Picnics, road trips, a lengthy funeral procession escorted by dozens of our city's finest policemen. That is my most vivid Labor Day memory. My brother was a police officer for the city of Nashville. He was also a soldier in the Navy who bravely served in Desert Storm. It was after this experience that he returned....a bit more broken. His real battle wasn't against a physical enemy or threat, though. He fought well. Just not quite long enough. He left behind a wife and 3 children. He also left behind the rest of us who loved him and held him dear.

Suicide is not something we generally bring into our daily dinner conversations or party icebreakers. It is, in general, a taboo and unfortunate topic. Death itself makes us feel discomfort, but add anything 'out of the ordinary' and we quickly move past the point of social acceptance. At times, it has been uncomfortable to mention. My mother still says she has 4 children: 3 here and 1 with Jesus. I still say I have 3 older brothers, which is great until anyone asks further questions or are curious about how he died. Then it gets a bit...special.

My favorite incident was the time we had extras for the annual Easter dinner. The one poor innocent soul asked, "So, is that your sister?" "No, that is my sister-in-law." "Oh, so that guy is your brother?" --awkward pause-- "No. That's her boyfriend." ~sigh~ And (giggle) ...cue story. Ironically, people seem even more uncomfortable when you are able to pleasantly explain. It's more entertaining now that said sister-in-law is re-married to a fantastic fellow (previously mentioned boyfriend). The book that my family could write if anyone would believe it were true....

There are days when I miss him more than others. Jeff could fix anything, build anything, and figure out just how anything worked.....he was really quite convenient to have around the house. He never called me by my name. Instead, he called me "Peanut." Don't ask. I have no idea. But I loved hearing the sound of it ring up the stairs when he came through the door. We have friends who call their little girl "Peanut." The first time I heard it, my heart initially sank but then lifted with a feeling of joy. I hope that daddy never stops calling her by that nickname--even when she is 16 and rolls her eyes at him. She will love it more than words can say one day as she looks back.

I missed him greatly on my wedding day, and I felt a pang of loss when my babies were born. They have no knowledge of him other than the stories I can offer, and as I was 18 and he 33 when he was gone my memories are sadly too few for them to understand. I want to paint a full picture for them, but the mind tends to get filled with many other things as the years come and go. However, certain things remain clear and bright. These are the things I want to hold onto--to take with me as I continue to surpass him in years. Things I would say if he were still here to hear them.

And so I have decided to share a few of those things. Not as some sort of bizarre connection with the other world, but simply as a way to connect my heart with my thoughts. I have never been one to spend time at his gravesite as I found it too cold and distant for me there. I don't converse with him or write him letters. Those things are wonderful outlets for some; for me, they offered no healing. Instead, I believe that my brother is waiting for the rest of us to arrive in heaven where we will have plenty of time to catch up on everything we missed. I'm sure you have your own thoughts about that topic, but I am ok with it. (Really. Don't share them.)

Until then, these bits of one-sided conversation will have to do:

"I have 501 things for you to make or fix. When can you start on that?"

"Please stop playing that wretched rendition of 'Born in the USA' on the piano. We can hear you all over the house. Feel free to continue that Carpenter's tune, though.....or use your crazy Bon Jovi voice."

"Mom made fried chicken. Meet me tomorrow at our usual kitchen spot, and we will eat it straight from the fridge. If I save you any..."

"Your children are beautiful, smart, thoughtful, amazing people. You should be so proud of them."

"Your granddaughter is precious and full of life. She also has your gift of talking..er...a good bit. I think her Daddy did, too, when he was little. I hope you can keep up."

"Can you say just a little while longer today? I'm sure the kids would love to see you."

"Please keep waiting. I'll see you soon."

Work in Progress

As I enter back into the blogging world, it comes to my attention how very lacking I have been in even using this medium to keep up with everyday happenings. I have decided that it is ok with me if no one else decides to peruse my entries. I am going to write things out...for posterity or just plain ol' therapy. It provides me with a useful outlet for my inner ramblings.

My thoughts of late have been turned towards the concept of community. My fabulous friend Tiffany wrote a blog about one particular aspect of this topic. Should you have a few extra minutes, head on over and read it. You'll be glad you did. But finish this first. I digress...

My heart and mind have been struggling. There is a longing deep within me to "fit," to belong, to have some sense of rightness in the world around me. I have cried. I have prayed. I have cried some more. Little by little, it seems that the answer to those pleas in the dark is not going to be a neatly wrapped parchment scroll dropped from the heavens into my lap. Nor is it going to be some sudden sense of revelation and knowing. Instead, for me, God has chosen to take me on this personal journey His way. (I know, right? How far we mistakenly think we have come from being in the same boat...er, treading the same sand...as those Israelites.)

Over the past few weeks, I have seen that my community is bigger and more diverse than expected. Just as there are many hats that we each wear as we switch out our roles in life, there are also many facets to our daily lives and the relationships we share. I have a wonderful place of connection at my neighborhood elementary school. My children grow and learn there, and they are blessed daily by incredible teachers and friends. I laugh now when I recall how very very fearful I was about sending my offspring into the lion's den of public education. Yes, God. I hear You on that one. As a result of this choice, I now have the glamorous job of the substitute teacher which has allowed me to become familiar with the place my kids spend 7 hours of each weekday. I have the opportunity to volunteer and give my time to the teachers who invest in 24 kids all day every day....and somehow seem to do so with a smile. Friendships that I treasure have formed from this particular gathering place. All in all, a great big piece of who I am centers around this brick building with its aged copier and fussy laminating machine. I am at peace there.

I have a broad and very eccentric circle of friends. These people rarely have graced the same locale, but they are of the utmost importance to me. I know who to call when I want to go see a movie no one else will want to see and exactly which theater has better popcorn for such an event. I know who to call if I want to wander the aisles of Target or Barnes and Noble just for the heck of it. I have our-kids-are-friends friends, book-reading friends, day-to-day-let's-get-through-it friends, and friends who offer to pray and mean it . It's a great big mush pile of personalities, people, and places I have been in life. But it all comes together to make something well-balanced and lovely and so very necessary.

Part of what I am learning is that the place I was seeking to meet my need for validation may, in fact, not be the correct place. Not to be too cliche, but putting all of my eggs in one basket at this point in my life may not be what is wise or even fair. Not too long ago, I had one of those emotional breakdown moments which we females tend to do now and then . (Sorry to sound stereotypical, but it's true.) I called my sister-in-law, and during all of my complaints (valid, of course) and questions about searching for my place and purpose she made this comment: "Maybe God wants you to look to Him and not the _________. Just Him." Well, since we are being honest here, I did not enjoy that little nugget of wisdom one bit. Nope. Didn't like it, pushed it aside for a good while, and decided that was just something for her to say to sound all holy. (Sorry, sis-in-law who hopefully doesn't read this blog post!!! hehe) Fast forward a couple of weeks, and I am pretty sure she was correct. God has decided to use that as a reallllly funny life-plot development for me. Cue the irony. And I am slowly learning to listen.

I may not make it through this particular episode completely whole. A few bits and pieces may need to be lost, refined, or adjusted along the way. But if I get to the end with a greater appreciation for those that impact my life, a greater awareness for the places in which I can serve, and a greater focus on God and not the extra....junk....then I think it will be ok. Or at least my view will be much clearer.

OH! And here is that blog link:
http://beatriceblount.blogspot.com/2011/08/facebook-main-street-usa.html