In Pursuit of Peace

Tuesday, July 31, 2018

Our Moe, with her lifelong BFF, Linda
You know, when a friend or loved one loses someone they love, my most common condolence is, "Peace to you and yours during this most difficult of times."

And for me, this is not just a platitude I say for form's sake, or because it's expected, or because I don't know what else to say. I say it because I know how very difficult it is to find peace after losing someone you love more than life itself.

After a tragedy of this sort, peace becomes as elusive as a unicorn, always just around the corner, or after the next "big" anniversary. One day I think I've found it, the very next, I'm heart-broken and grief-stricken all over again, because I glance at a photo, or I see something Moe would have liked, and my illusory "peace" blows away like the mirage it is.

Our Moe-Moe has been gone for five years today. For five years I've had this hole in my heart, in my life, in my love, where she used to be, and I still have not been able to find peace with this reality.

I'm not angry, or in denial. I know why she did what she did, and I'm not angry she made the choice, although I'm incredibly sad about it and her suffering. I know, in my heart of hearts, that she's gone, and will never come back. Given my lack of faith, I am forced to believe she really is gone, for good, and the only parts of her that remain are our memories and love for her.

Processing my grief over Moe's death has been a very different experience for me compared to the loss of other people I have loved and lost. My Dad, my Gram, my mother-in-law, my Aunties, my lost friends - all of these losses punched me in the heart, and left me bereft, but I found ways to make peace with it, and move forward. I'm even at peace with the loss of who I believed my sister to be, and the reality that she'll never be a part of my life again.

But finding peace with Moe's death appears to be beyond my reach. I remain functional most days. I enjoy time spent with friends & family. I find meaning in my volunteer work and pursue my hobbies. But my grief at her loss is still a huge part of my life. I miss her, terribly, each and every day. The loss of her and her light in this world is devastating to me, and I can't seem to find a way to be at peace with her death and all it represents.

It's not okay that she's dead. It's not okay that she's lost to those of us who loved her. It's not okay that her contribution to this world was cut so short. It never will be okay, and while I don't expect I'll ever believe it is, I wish I could find my way to peace.

2 comments:

Steve Buchheit said...

We all wish we could help.

John said...

“It’s not ok that she’s dead.” Yes. Oh god, yes.