Grief's a Bitch....

and it sneaks up and hits you at the most inconvenient time. Like 8:23 on a Monday evening, when you're sitting at your computer, minding your own business and shopping online for shoes. I'm not sure why it's hitting right now, or why it's hitting so hard. But here I sit trying to respond to a couple of emails and, instead, bawling my eyes out. And now, in an attempt to sort this all through, I'm posing the problem to you, my loyal friends and readers. Why is it that grief can sneak up behind you, tackle you, and totally kick your ass in matter of seconds, then be on it's merry way until it decides you need another reminder that your life is never going to be the same? Why is it that it's so different for everyone? How is it that 8 months later, I still feel as though my insides have been ripped out, shred to bits and put on display for the world, but others have moved on completely? What do I have to do to live with the pain? It's not that I want to forget Jeremy, I just want to forget that he's never coming back. I don't want to think about the fact that he's not going to knock on my door to show me a cool truck he got to borrow from work. I don't want to remember that it's about time for him to come put my air conditioner in the window and complain the entire time about the better things he has to do. I want to stop expecting to see him when I pull into my parents' driveway and see his truck in the yard. I don't want to catch myself before I call David by Jeremy's name when he answers the phone. But, nothing seems to help me forget these things. Instead, I am forgetting the sound of his voice, and the light in his eyes when he smiled. Instead, I find myself trying to figure out how to manage a pain that medicine hasn't found a cure for. Instead, I am trying to figure out how to live in spite of grief. Instead, I find myself missing my brother and no reasonable solution to the knowledge of loss.