Is That All There Is?

Thanksgiving has come and gone.  There are still a fair amount of leftovers, which means I don't have to cook for another night or two and that's a good thing since I'm exhausted from all the pre-holiday cooking that was done!

 

My cousin and her girls came, stayed a couple of nights and for that I am thankful.  Last time I saw her was at her brother's funeral last year.  I love reconnecting with my extended family.  We always end up having such a great time with our late-night talks, eating too much junk and watching our kids form a bond.  Probably the best part of it all is watching the interaction between them and my dad, their Uncle.

There are always lots of questions about this and that.  I love hearing the stories of their upbringing, how so-and-so is related to this one or that one, etc.  Nothing can compare to these precious family times and the memories that come from them.

Of course, this year was bittersweet since we just buried my brother.  Lots of emotions.  Lots of ups and downs, not really knowing how to deal sometimes.  It's not that I don't have faith, it's just one of those situations that you can't really understand until you've walked in my shoes and now is not a time I'm ready to open up and spill my guts about it all.  Yet.

What has made this year even harder is the fact that I just received a call from the Medical Examiner's Office with the toxicology report from his death.  Long story short, it was definitly his heart.  At the age of 48, the cause of his death was his heart.  Once again, survivor's guilt tries to set in on me.  Make no mistake.  It's a very real thing.

After receiving a copy of the report, I headed over to share the news with my dad.  It was like the wound had been ripped off all over again.  His last words were something to the effect of, "Well, I guess that's all there is..."

Is that really all there is?  So, now we just move on like nothing ever happened?  Like his life never mattered?  Doesn't all life matter?  Shouldn't we strive to make sure our lives matter to someone, somehow?  Shouldn't we do what we can to make a difference and touch at least one life while given the chance on this earth?  If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times... we only get one chance in this life.  Shouldn't we make it count for something?  While there is much I'm not ready to open up about, this one thing I know for sure... my brother's life (and his passing) has made me who I am today.  His life did make a difference... to me.  His life and his passing has touched my life in a way no one else ever has or possibly ever could.

This gives me comfort and hope.  I still have regrets I can't do anything about, so learn from me and do your best to live a regret-free life.  I can only imagine what that must be like, but from this point forward, hopefully I'll be able to find out, firsthand!

As for me, this isn't all there is... it's only a fresh, new beginning.

S.