The Saddest Part…

…was not the phone call.

Was it having to tell my kids?  Having to call my sister to break it to her?  Trying to maintain an “I’m okay face” while preparing to leave town?

Was it seeing my mother when I walked in her house?  Dealing with my nieces and nephews grieving their uncle?

Was it going through tons of pictures to find the ones that were right for the service?  Was it having to conduct the service after refereeing the discussion about whether it should be religious or not?

It may have been watching my nieces and nephew break down at the memorial service for their father.

It may have been the preparations for joining family to scatter ashes; or dealing with the car rental counter who didn’t have a car for me, making it very possible that I would be late for the second memorial service.

Then there was the horrible road that took us two hours to drive the seven and a half miles.

But I surely was not prepared to see my niece break down and fall to the ground then knead the ashes into the ground.

I think, though, that for me, the toughest part was holding his ashes in my hand and knowing that I had to let him go.

And now the toughest part is not being able to look at his pictures any more without breaking down; and needing to avoid speaking of him so I won’t fall apart.

Then there’s the knowing…the realization…that I can’t see him any more;  and the fact that  I can’t pick the phone up and talk to him.

I have been through this before.  This is the second brother I lose to suicide and the third brother I lose.  I know I will get through this.  I know that one day I will be able to think of him and smile and laugh and be happy that he is at peace, like I have done with the other two I have lost.

But I’m not there yet.   Right now there is just pain.  Right now there is alone-ness.  Right now there is sadness.  Right now I am numb.