The Day Grief Came To Live At My House.....

My story is in no way unique. By sharing it, I am in not asking for people to feel sorry for me or for my family. All that I am asking is that if you knew my brother or even if you didn't you would take some time today to remember him and his zest for life and smile. He would want it that way.....

October 29th, 2008, should have been an ordinary Wednesday. A mundane day spent finishing up my final classes before my December graduation. When I went to bed on that Tuesday night, I had no idea that in just a few short hours, life as I knew it would forever be changed. Every thing from that day in ingrained in my mind, in my soul. I remember the call from my mom that came at exactly 5:33am. She used the word unresponsive. She never spoke the words that he was gone but deep in my heart, I knew. I remember trying to rationalize in my mind that his blood sugar had just gone too low. He would be fine. He had to be fine. This was Ethan we were talking about. In retrospect, I was flashing through Kubler-Ross' stages of grief at warp speed. Even on the four mile car ride to my parent's farm, I remember bargaining everything thing I had or could give if he would just be okay.

Four years later, grief still lives with the Whitesel's. It's a visitor that was never invited yet will never leave. Grief is no longer a constant companion. It no longer consumes us, although it is always there. Prior to this, I thought those stages of grief that I had learned about in so many classes were just theories. Boy-oh- boy, was I mistaken. The fantastic (sarcasm) thing about grief is that no one is EVER on the same stage in a family. We all found our own way to grieve. We were all set on paths to navigate through our grief and it was up to us, individually to find our way. Admittedly, I got lost along the way, several times. I did and said things that I could have never thought possible.

I found anger real fast and held tight to it for a long time. I understood anger. I was living in a world where my basically healthy 26 year old brother went to bed and didn't wake up. So in a world where everything I understood to be true was turned upside down. I reached for an emotion I understood. I couldn't pinpoint who or what that anger was directed towards, all I knew was that I was pissed.

I remember trying to figure out how I would get through the next four minutes without my brother and still am in disbelief that four years has passed. I can remember thinking to myself, "how long is this going to hurt?" I know now that the answer to that question is as complicated as it is easy: forever, it's going to hurt forever. I don't care it is has been four years or forty, the void that was created when he left this life will always be there.

I still miss Ethan every.single.day. We all do.

I miss his love of life. I miss his advice. I miss his compassion. I miss his bullshit and his stories.... I miss him every time I look at Mom and Dad. He was this beautiful mix of both of them. I miss him every time Dad laughs-exactly the same as Ethan. I miss him every time Mom says something that sounds bat shit crazy because that apparently is hereditary :). When I see what a wise ass Jennifer has become, I smile because without Ethan showing her, her true value she would still be settling for other's treating her badly. I miss him most when I see my cousin, Trevor. They have such strikingly similar facial features that sometimes when he walks in to a room it feels like the wind has been knocked right out of me because for a nanosecond my mind plays a trick on me and maybe this has all been some kind of horrible nightmare. Thankfully through Trevor, we get to see Ethan in small glimpses.

On a side note, I also have to laugh every time I see a Mini-Cooper because he wanted one so bad; I just am not real sure how the logistics of him getting in one would have worked but guaranteed he would have rocked it.

Four years later, my family and I continue the process of healing. Life will never be what it once was but we are adjusting to this new normal. A reality that isn't ideal. One, if given the choice, none of us would have picked, but like it or not, we must adapt. Some days it feels like we've got a grip on this new life. Others, it feels like the wounds are brand-new. Physically, Ethan has left us but I know he will always there. The times that I feel the most alone, I have to believe that is when he is there by my side saying, "Stop being a dip shit, Lou, and pull your head out of your ass." He was the first person I would call with good news or with bad. I still have to consciously not dial his number when I need someone to talk to.

Four years later and I am finally choosing to let go of my anger. If I really want to honor my brother's life, anger is not the way to go about it. I want to think about his life with happiness. I want to live every day the way he did, with no regrets. He may not have always made the right choices. His mistakes were plentiful yet he always saw the best in everyone A quality I have yet to master. He took the time to forgive those who didn't always warrant it. Never once did that kid hold on to anger.

By releasing my anger I am allowing myself to forgive. It's taken a long time for me to realize that my forgiveness has the be threefold. I am forgiving God for taking my brother, for His plan is far beyond anything I can fathom. I forgive Ethan for leaving us. When the good Lord calls your name, you gotta go. And finally, I am choosing to forgive myself for living. Feeling guilty about living pays no homage to Ethan's life. Having the opportunity to truly live and denying myself that is the only true disservice to my brother's memory.

Four years ago grief came to live in my house and I will never, ever be the same.

In Loving Memory of Ethan Edward Whitesel
February 5, 1982 to October 29, 2008.

To A Life Well Lived.....
Miss You Every Day, Bubba!