Christmas Gift of Grief

Christmas is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year, right? Well, it often seems just the opposite when you are missing a loved one who has died. Everything around you is a reminder. Sometimes those reminders are tender moments that can bring a sweet smile to your face and a peace & comfort to your heart, while others can have you ugly crying in a department store and leave you feeling sad and blue.

Christmas is about togetherness, family, and traditions that date back to before you were even born. So what happens when there is one less stocking to fill, one less seat at the table on Christmas day and constant reminders that someone is missing from your family-- making traditions both bitter and sweet.  

This is the fourth Christmas since our brother died.  

This is the fourth Christmas not getting to buy him a gift but seeing so many things in the stores that would make the perfect gift for him. There have been so many times that I’ve picked things up with the thought he would love it only to put it back because he’s gone and I don’t get to buy him a gift. And so there you are left standing in the shoe department of Nordstroms with tears running down your face with the realization that you never get to see your brother open a gift from you ever again. You can imagine it but then someone picks up the other shoe and asks the sales clerk to check for a size in stock and reality hits. Tears start to get ugly, people around you are uncomfortable and all you want to do is just buy your brother this pair of ridiculous shoes that you know he would love-- a pair of shoes that only he could pull off and appreciate it. So, you put the shoe back, wipe the tears from your face, and walk away.

And just like that you miss your brother more than ever and that pain that literally takes your breath away has returned and it’s as intense as it was the day he died.

Sure…today I have tools, coping skills, and the knowledge from experience that I know I will smile and laugh and be happy again, but for a moment (sometimes brief, sometimes not) the pain is suffocating, life’s not fair, and finding acceptance is a challenge.

I think about my brother all the time, but there is something about the holidays that seems to put grief on an elevated intensity level. The past couple weeks have been pretty difficult for me (and the people around me, I’m sure). I can feel the pressure from tears just on the other side of my eyes building up from trying to hold them back. I feel like people want to put an expiration date on grief for me like I should be all better now three and a half years later.

Well, that’s not been my experience. Grief comes and goes and I by no means have it figured out. It’s a no show when I’m expecting it but it shows up in places on days I never saw it coming. Sometimes it’s brief and other times it lingers for longer than I would like, but one thing I know is that there is no way to avoid it or pretend it isn’t there. It’s not the grief I want to avoid; it’s the pain that it causes. Trying to avoid the sadness and loneliness only prolongs the grieving process, so I lean into it and get through it.

Will loved Christmas so it’s only natural that so much about this season would remind us of our brother and all the memories we shared with him. Will fancied Hickory Farms summer sausage, peanut brittle, and Claxton fruitcake. He was completely anal about lining up the pattern of the wrapping paper on gifts. He liked the song “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas” and Adam Sandler’s “Hanukah Song” and I can still see him singing them with his signature smirk of a smile. He would hide Mrs. Story’s homemade cookies and Mrs. Dixon’s apple muffins every single year. He favored color lights over white lights no matter how old he got and hated artificial trees. He let our little sister sleep in his room and listen for Santa on Christmas Eve until she got to high school and long after she knew Santa wasn’t real. He always “adopted” a kid  for Christmas and would obsess over getting exactly what the kid asked for. The year before he died the kid listed he wanted a bike. Will must have called my mom and older brother a dozen times each with questions to make sure he got the perfect bike for this kid and he did. Will was particular and thoughtful and kind.

I don’t think grief ever goes away completely and honestly, I don’t want it to. No matter how brief grief graces me with her presence, she always leaves my heart a little softer and puts thing in perspective of what’s really important. Maybe it’s my brother’s way of sending us a Christmas gift to remind us that Christmas isn’t a season. It’s a feeling.

Maybe it’s our brother’s way of letting us know he is with us. He shows up at the Hickory Farm stand in the mall. He shows up on the radio with Adam Sandler. He shows up with Mrs. Dixon’s muffins and Mrs. Story’s cookies. He even shows up with a disapproving head shake when I’m wrapping presents that aren’t symmetrical or perfect in any way.

So, I smile and I cry and I share stories about him. I let grief weave in and out of Christmas and look for acceptance one moment at a time. That kid, my brother, he is so present in my heart that it makes his absence on Christmas morning and little less blue. 

Don't Tell Me When To Be Thankful

I don’t know what it is about Thanksgiving that makes me feel so darn ungrateful about everything. I mean, the one day of the year that most pause and give thanks for what they are grateful for is the one day of the year that makes me want to think of every single thing that is missing in my life and the world around me.

I don’t remember being this ungrateful on Thanksgiving until I got sober. Maybe I just stayed drunk to avoid having to think about it or maybe it was because nothing really tragic had happened in my life at that point and I just took most things for granted. Being honest, it was probably a little of both.

I was born defiant. I refused to eat solid foods until I was able to hand feed myself around 9 months old. Growing up, as soon as someone would tell me to do something it would make me want to do the exact opposite. I remember thinking at a young age, “nobody’s going to tell me what to do” when it came to things like cleaning my room or brushing my teeth. I wanted to do things my way and on my time. I would be half way through cleaning my room when my mom would yell up for me to clean my room, not knowing I had already started and I would stop cleaning because I didn’t like being told what to do. That classic “I’ll show you…I’ll hurt me” mentality followed me straight into adulthood and active addiction.

So it kind of makes sense that I’m bit of an ungrateful brat when it comes to Thanksgiving. I have no problem giving thanks and practicing gratitude the other 364 days of the year, but on the one day that pretty much revolves around grateful thankful hearts, I want nothing more than to count my misgivings instead.

My first Thanksgiving sober was also the first Thanksgiving without my younger brother, Will, who had died 6 months earlier to a drug overdose. I had gotten sober about 7 weeks after Will died and between then and Thanksgiving I had been focusing on my spiritual growth and practicing things like gratitude in my daily life. I would make gratitude lists and try to find gratitude in situations throughout my day, both good and bad. It became somewhat of a game to find gratitude it the most annoying of situations that would usually have sent me over the edge and an excuse to drink. I became a master of finding the gratitude in most situations and it made life easier, more peaceful and content.

I was stoked for my first sober Thanksgiving. I knew how much I had to be grateful for. Like I said, I was a gratitude guru at this point, if you will. So, you can imagine what a surprise it was when I woke up and didn’t want to get out of bed and found myself crying uncontrollably on and off the entire day. I couldn’t find gratitude in anything. I missed my brother and I was angry and sad. I didn’t want to be thankful. I certainly didn’t feel thankful.  

The year after that I just wanted the day to be over. I showed up to dinner and barely talked to anyone and left shortly after. Last year, I showed up and was present…present to be aware of everything that was wrong. My brother still wasn’t there. He was never going to be there. Instead there was a candle lite in his memory. My grandfather was at dialysis most of the day. A “do not resuscitate” sign hanging on his bedroom door was the first thing I saw as I entered my parent’s home. My parents were gone to visit my brother’s grave. I was there alone. I was sure 2014 was going to be the year that one of the dozen horrible dates I had gone on would pan out into something substantial but that wasn’t the case.

The day seemed to last forever and the pity party I was hosting in my head was dragging on. Eventually, my younger sister and older brother started showing up with my nephews in tow. I remember looking around the table and thinking to myself as I looked over at my sister holding her pregnant belly and thinking, some of the best days of our lives are ahead of us.

For whatever reason that put things in perspective for me. And then I remembered something a good friend who had passed away a couple months earlier would always say and it was that everything in life is temporary…the good and the bad. “We are in a constant state of temporary”, he would say. So, enjoy the good, get through the bad and be present in every situation because it will soon be gone.

I was able to look down to the end of the table of my grandfather who’s heath is failing him and be grateful he was there and smiling. I was able to look at my brother’s memory candle and be grateful for the 29 Thanksgivings I had with him and for how his death had changed our family and had made our hearts are all a little softer and our love a little stronger.

I’ve spent too many Thanksgivings focusing on what’s missing instead of all the many blessings sitting right beside of me--focusing too much on the pain of the past instead of the joys of the future and the gift of today.

I’m not naive to think I won’t miss my brother tomorrow, but I miss him every day. It reminds me of just how much I love him. And this year I get to love on my newest nephew who wasn’t with us last year who brings the nephew count to 6. I get another year with my grandfather sitting at the end of the table. And most shockingly, I’ve got a pretty amazing guy who I adore by my side.

So, I guess my point to all this rambling is that if you struggle like me with giving thanks on a day that is dedicated to being thankful then try and stay present in the moment that is right in front of you and don’t get caught up in the 3 ring circus in your head. You never know what next Thanksgiving will bring. Maybe it will bring new babies or boyfriends, but it might bring an empty seat that is filled this year. In the end, it’s just another day. It’s all temporary, so let’s be thankful for today because it’s really all we are guaranteed and today I have a lot to be thankful for.

Wishing you a grateful-thankful Thanksgiving whether you feel like it or not!

Giving Myself Some Grace

We all need a little more grace in our lives and I am learning that the best way to receive it sometimes is by giving it ourselves.

Why are we so quick to extend grace to others but hesitant to give it ourselves?

A couple of months ago I was having coffee with a friend who suggested I take a solo retreat to get away and write and finally start on a memoir that I have had sitting pretty in my head for about a year now. Well, I thought one week probably wasn’t long enough so after some research and talking to friends, I decided to get away to the Cape Cod area—an area that inspires me and holds a special place in my heart.

Well, just so happens a dear and gracious friend has a home there and offered it to me for the month of September.  I mean, how could anyone turn that down?

I should know by now that life never happens according to my grand plans that float around in my head! I plan and God laughs. That’s how the saying goes, right? Well, what had initially started out as a one month writing sabbatical has turned into a week away with my pencils, paper and computer.

At first, I was hard on myself that I was letting myself down by not sticking with the month away to really make some progress with writing this memoir, but life was happening and things came up that were keeping me in Charlotte a little longer and taking me back a little earlier. It was a battle in my mind, which I am not a stranger to. I had this grand plan in my head that I wanted to stick with but then I had to ask myself why? Why was I putting so much pressure on myself? I had no one to answer to but myself. There were no deadlines, no editor or publisher or agent breathing down my neck. Nope, just me and my own self-imposed expectations. My ego and pride were drowning out my inner spirit and that’s not something I am comfortable with these days. Humbling oneself can sometimes be hard.

Did I really think I was letting myself down or was I afraid of what others would think of me? What if I didn’t have anything to show in the form a potential book when I came home? What if what I wrote was absolute garbage that no one would want to read? What if I just went up to the Cape and sat on the beach and didn’t write anything at all?

I guess all of these are possibilities, but what if I just allowed myself to wake up and give myself a little grace. Wake up grateful and ask God to give me the words to write and reach the people who need them most. Go through my day and be open to the possibly of whatever happens, it’s part of God’s plan. Maybe it means I write a book. Maybe it means I write a few essays. Maybe I just journal and meditate and connect with God a little deeper without distractions of daily life.

11 years ago this month my brother, Will, and I drove up to Boston with my stuff for me to make a move from Charleston to Boston and start a new job. He had just graduated College of Charleston and I was moving back to a city that I loved. Our futures seemed bright.

Never in a million years would I have believed the story that unfolded over those 11 years, or the way addiction edged its way into both of our lives on different terms and different outcomes. Will died. I got sober and now I’m going to write about what happened in between. I don’t know what that looks like or what will come of it, but I’m giving myself some grace and turning it over to God.

My life may not be going the way I planned, but I am confident it is going exactly the way God planned it. So, there but for the grace of God go I...

Erin Phillips: Vast and Brilliant

                                                            August 2, 1984 - July 21, 2015

“Do not be delicate- be vast and brilliant.”

This was Erin Phillips tagline or her Instagram account and a mantra she most certainly achieved on a daily basis.

I guess you could say I started getting to know Erin around the time of her double lung transplant, thanks to social media. Erin’s family and my family have always meant a lot to each and I don’t remember a time not knowing the Phillips family, but until this point, I had really only known Erin as Kellyn’s and Jillian’s sister, who were both good friend’s with my younger sister and who I both coached in youth league cheerleading.  

Erin didn't cheer. She was much more badass than that. Cystic Fibrosis? That didn't stop Erin. She played sports and was good at them. "Do not be delicate- be vast and brilliant."

It was July 2012 when she set up shop at the Mayo clinic and underwent a double lung transplant and kept everyone updated with her progress through her blog (Inhale, Exhale, Repeat) almost immediately. 

I had just recently gotten out of rehab when Erin received the news that she was getting new lungs and I became obsessed with following her story. I was amazed at literally how vast and brilliant she was through the entire journey. She inspired me. She was open and honest and unapologetic. She was authentic and genuine and inappropriate in the most amazing ways. She approached what most would look at as a terrifying situation and she showed faith over everything else. She invited humor and humility into her life daily with what she shared with others. Her facebook statuses could be compiled into a book of hope, humor and inspiration.

Watching Erin the past few years has been like a guidebook on how to do life. Talk about living life on life’s terms and choosing happiness. She embraced life and all the possibilities, both good and bad.  

On June 5th of this year, Erin posted this on my facebook. She’s talking about mountains that are 14,000 feet in elevation. She wanted to hike them. And not just one…”a couple,” she says. Do not be delicate, be vast and brilliant.

I think we can all assume I will one day in the near future tackle this feat for Miss Erin. I mean, I kinda have to. It's the #ErinEffect 

When I heard the news of Erin’s passing, I was driving back to Charlotte from Albemarle. I sobbed.  I knew Erin was breathing easy in Heaven with the angles but my heart broke for her family and her close friends. My heart broke with that such a force has been taken from us.

I got home and looked through facebook and continued to sob. I was having trouble catching my breath just like when my brother had died. I knew what her family was going through and it's something so horrible and terrible you can't even imagine until you've experienced it. It's like your mind and body aren't able to process such pain and your body is rejecting the news in ways like not being able to breathe. 

 I went to Erin’s page and found what she had posted when my brother died…

A peace came over me as I read her post. I drew so much comfort from her words. Like she was speaking to us then...she was speaking to us now. 

Another thing about Erin...she was wise beyond her years. I thought of Will. I thought of them high fiving each other in heaven and what a celebration it must be. So, I smiled. 

You see, that's one of the amazing things about Erin. She was not delicate, but she was soft. She didn't let the harsh realities of life make her hard. She did everything with a beautiful fierceness--vast and brilliant; the way she lived, the way she loved, the way she faced life head on, the way she left this earth, and no doubt the way she entered Heaven's gates. 

One of my favorite quotes is from Erma Bombeck…”When I stand before God at the end of my  life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left and could say, “I used everything you gave me.”

Erin, my sweet friend. You won. 

NEW ARRIVALS: Lush Life & Will's Place

So excited to have some new It's a Lush Life arrivals! Live out loud with these super cute Next Level Tri-Blend tanks! order at www.itsalushlife.com/shop Use Promo Code: JUUTG41 for free shipping now through Friday 7/24 

And introducing Will's Place custom artwork American Apparel Tri-Blend Track Shirts (Unisex). Check out more about Will's Place at www.willsplacenc.org 100% of proceeds go directly to making Will's Place a reality on the renovation project for sober living home for men in Albemarle.