May 13, 2015 at 10:42am is one of those moments for me. I remember exactly what my life was like before that moment, in that moment, and since that moment. Instantly, the world around me came to a screeching halt and my life's train derailed from its tracks. When an integral part of your everyday life disappears before your very eyes, it is the most abrupt thing a person can experience. When someone you love becomes nothing more than a memory, you can only react.
Why that moment? Because that moment is when I became aware of the reality in which I would soon be forced to exist. The beginning of a 17-minute phone call. A phone call I had been hoping never to receive, but also in the back of my mind been waiting for. Hearing the words "I'm here with the body of Christian Everett and I have been given specific instructions to contact you with some detailed information" stopped me like a stone.
Chris was gone, and this time it was forever. There was nothing I could do to intervene.
This moment in time happens to be exactly 12 hours (to the minute) since I spoke to Chris for the last time. And it happens to be exactly 3 days later (to the specific minute, again) when I arrived to retrieve his belongings, his cremated remains, and the letter he had left for me. This phone call is when I knew that these other moments would forever hold significance.
I've been heartbroken before - more times than I care to admit - by people I loved who ended up being a disappointment, by men I gave my heart to who walked away without a proper goodbye, and by the universe choosing to toss up a roadblock just when things feel like they're finally coming together. But no drifting apart or breaking up compares to the same kind of heartbroken pain and no amount of previous grief can prepare you for the world to turn on end simply by answering a phone call.
Nothing can prepare a person for losing someone because they chose death over life. Because their struggles were too much for them to handle; because they could no longer find the energy to fight, simply to survive another day - no matter how much you loved them.
Love can not heal broken people.
A little louder for those of you in the back: LOVE can NOT heal BROKEN people.
You can love them with everything you have, in every moment of every day until the end of time, and they will still be broken until they are ready to be healed.
It took me 2 years to realize that this was true and there was nothing logical for which I should feel guilt. No matter how many people said the same words, I needed to accept it for myself, in my own time: there was nothing I could have done to alter the outcome of the events from that night.
It took 2 years, a handful of loving friends, countless tear-filled nights, endless hours of soul-searching, and more love lost for it to FINALLY sink in: You can not save everyone; you can only love them.
You can (and should) love them and support them, but you can not heal and save them.
And that is no one's fault.
More graffiti later,
~ A
Why that moment? Because that moment is when I became aware of the reality in which I would soon be forced to exist. The beginning of a 17-minute phone call. A phone call I had been hoping never to receive, but also in the back of my mind been waiting for. Hearing the words "I'm here with the body of Christian Everett and I have been given specific instructions to contact you with some detailed information" stopped me like a stone.
Chris was gone, and this time it was forever. There was nothing I could do to intervene.
This moment in time happens to be exactly 12 hours (to the minute) since I spoke to Chris for the last time. And it happens to be exactly 3 days later (to the specific minute, again) when I arrived to retrieve his belongings, his cremated remains, and the letter he had left for me. This phone call is when I knew that these other moments would forever hold significance.
I've been heartbroken before - more times than I care to admit - by people I loved who ended up being a disappointment, by men I gave my heart to who walked away without a proper goodbye, and by the universe choosing to toss up a roadblock just when things feel like they're finally coming together. But no drifting apart or breaking up compares to the same kind of heartbroken pain and no amount of previous grief can prepare you for the world to turn on end simply by answering a phone call.
Nothing can prepare a person for losing someone because they chose death over life. Because their struggles were too much for them to handle; because they could no longer find the energy to fight, simply to survive another day - no matter how much you loved them.
Love can not heal broken people.
A little louder for those of you in the back: LOVE can NOT heal BROKEN people.
You can love them with everything you have, in every moment of every day until the end of time, and they will still be broken until they are ready to be healed.
It took me 2 years to realize that this was true and there was nothing logical for which I should feel guilt. No matter how many people said the same words, I needed to accept it for myself, in my own time: there was nothing I could have done to alter the outcome of the events from that night.
It took 2 years, a handful of loving friends, countless tear-filled nights, endless hours of soul-searching, and more love lost for it to FINALLY sink in: You can not save everyone; you can only love them.
You can (and should) love them and support them, but you can not heal and save them.
And that is no one's fault.
More graffiti later,
~ A
Grieving and healing are both long-term. Just know I'm here whenever you need me 24/7. ��������
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