Have you ever lost someone close to you? If you have, I’m sorry for your loss. If you haven’t, make sure you let your loved ones know how you feel and remember not to take them for granted.

You all know I’m going through the dreaded Meaniepause, right? If you didn’t read the blog, but would like to now, here’s the link http://rosapalermowellness.com.au/meaniepause/. Anyway, I hadn’t been feeling myself for a little while, so I used the Christmas and New Year period to really rest my mind and body, and felt ready to kick 2016’s butt! However, this past week or so I’ve found myself teary, melancholy and even sad, and as the Australia Day weekend approached, noticed the feelings becoming more intense. On reflection, I recalled that it was four years ago on the Australia Day weekend that I last spent time with my brother, Tony, before he unexpectedly passed away, aged 43, on 10 February 2012. He had visited with his two little girls, aged four and five.

Aaaaah! That’s why I’m feeling sad and a little unraveled. Grief is forging its way to the forefront. The grief that is usually quietly slumbering away in a special place in my heart.

I recall my partner waking me to tell me the police wanted to speak to me in the late hours of a Friday night.  In my surprise of being woken in the middle of the night to talk to police, I still had enough wits about me to put a bra on before descending the stairs (my mother raised me right).

Disbelief. Shock. I actually told the poor police officer that he was joking, right? I remember the young policeman had a tattoo on his neck and that Tony, who was heavily tattooed himself, would probably like that. Telling my sisters – all of it so surreal. Like a movie that I was watching. Going through my brother’s things in his share house. Driving to my parents’ home and walking into a home filled with sadness, loss, pain, shock, disbelief. Purchasing something for my brother to wear in his coffin. Something for me to wear. The funeral. After the funeral. Still not real. Just moving through these things on automatic pilot. Supported by my partner who so selflessly just did what I asked him to do without question.

I was scared to close my eyes at night for fear of ‘seeing’ my brother. Why was I scared? Tony loves me. He doesn’t want to hurt me. Maybe I didn’t want to see him because I was trying to get used to the idea that I was never going to see him in the flesh again? I was never going to feel his massive arms pull me in to him in a big squeezy bear hug. I was never going to hear his loud voice or laugh fill a room. I was never going to have another wedgie, noogie, Chinese burn or wet willy.

I even smudged my house with sage because I could feel bad energy in my home, especially the room he stayed in.

Horrible. Bloody horrible. Every. Single. Painful. Second.

It took months to feel ‘normal’. I cried a lot. I went through feelings of loss, sadness, grief, shame, guilt and disbelief. Day by day, I gradually managed to cope with these feelings a little better and got on with life. God knows, Tony would’ve hated knowing how sad I was and would’ve wanted me to continue living a full and happy life.

We didn’t scatter his ashes until 2014. We scattered him at Mossman Gorge, north of Cairns. His favourite place. A beautiful place. A place where he would be carried out to the Great Barrier Reef, where he could dive eternally among the coral and marine life. It was emotional, but not as sad as I thought it would be. It was a part of the process of letting go of some of the hurt, and a loving thing to do for our dearly departed brother. (FYI, it took a long time to empty the ashes out of the canister. He was a BIG man!)

And this time every year, the grief shakes off it’s protective cloak and bares itself in all it’s painful glory – large and imposing, just like Tony was.

I don’t question my feelings. Gees, I reckon I miss him more today than ever. The longer he’s gone, the more I miss him. I allow myself to honour my brother’s memory and celebrate his life. I talk about him all the time. I laugh at some memories, gently smile at others and sometimes just a single solitary tear rolls down my cheek.

Grief never leaves a person. It stays around forever. With time, most of us learn to deal with loss of our loved one better. Some people never recover from losing someone close. We’ve all heard of elderly couples, where one dies, and the other follows soon after, passing away from a broken heart. I believe that can happen. I totally get that. Sometimes people don’t want to go on living without their beloved.

Tony was a vibrant man with a lot of personal issues that affected his ability to cope with emotional pain, and I know it would break his heart if he knew I stopped living because of his passing. I honour my brother best by living life, keeping his memory alive and sharing my story with others.

I like to think I further honour him by spreading the message that mental illness should not be shrouded in shame and guilt. As a person who’s suffered depression myself and was too ashamed to tell people, I can totally relate to the pain and suffering of those trying to ‘keep it together’ and hold down a job and be a parent, or those on their own, sinking further and further down the deep, black hole of nothingness.

Tony, I miss you. I miss you so much, my heart aches and I yearn for your strong arms to hold me close. Gees, to have one more wedgie from you would be awesome!