some pictures

That last posts have been heavy, so I want to add some pictures of my brother. I have always been a picture person. While I don't have the sheer photographical talent my brother and sister have, I have always loved and appreciated them. (Which is why I hired one of the best wedding photographers in the area for my wedding) :) Evan may be gone, but his pictures remain. Let me share some with you. Most of these pictures are birthday celebrations, in honor of his birthday this past week. He would've been 22. More pictures of that celebration to come.

He was about 15 here.

Same day. He was a goofball.

another birthday celebration of his and Kelly's. 15? 16?

From teen to man. About 19 here? With his beloved macbook.

A very special memory. His and Kelly's birthday celebration two years ago this weekend at Stuckey Farms.

my birthday celebration a few years ago. He was 17.

always so full of life.

Stuckey Farms Birthday Celebration. Fall 2010.

I love his smile here :)

Kelly's graduation party just last summer!

so handsome, right? :)

him and his girlfriend. 

the only picture we have of him holding his niece, Summer 2011.

another birthday celebration.

just this last Christmas, 2011.

same graduation party. summer 2011. notice my grandpa here too. this is the last picture I have of both my brother and grandpa in the same picture. I will treasure it forever.

god love him. 

No visitations

Evan, why have you not visited me? Why have you not come to me? I need you so. I need to see you again. I need to hear your voice again. I know its not possible, but I need one of your amazing bear hugs again. I need to feel your arms around me.

I woke up this morning at around 6 am. On a Sunday. Both you and I know how rare that is. I couldn't sleep. All I could think about was you. I was missing you so much it hurt. My mind hurt. My heart hurt. My breath was taken away. And I yearned for you. I yearned for you so much. For your touch. Your laugh. Your smile.

I need to see you again. I need to hear you again. But I'm scared.

I can't walk through my house without the lights on. I can't open my eyes when I toss and turn at night in case you are standing there. I can't be the first one to walk down the hall at night. I make Eric go first and light my way.

How can I be so scared to see you yet want to see you so much at the same time?

I guess in my perfect world you would visit me in a dream, not in spirit form in my home. But I know thats ridiculous. I can't choose how you come to me. All I can do is get over my fear of seeing you so that you feel like you can come visit me in whatever way you want too. I will try to work on that, little dear brother. The other night I thought about getting up out of bed and just sitting at one end of the hallway in the dark, waiting for you. Why is the hallway the scariest place in my house? I don't know. But I'm tempted to face my fears head on.

The other day I was driving home from work and I had the most horrible thought. I almost ran off the road it hurt so bad. Have you not come to visit me because I'm not worth your time? Am I not important enough to you? Are there other places, more important people, more pressing things to do than to visit me, your sister? I can't help but think so. And when this thought hit me, it was like running into a brick wall. And it wasn't in question form. It was a statement. Like the devil himself ascended down on me and whispered into my ear, "You aren't important to him." I started balling right then and there in my car. So I am doubting myself big time right now. Is that why you haven't visited me? That is the worst thing imaginable to me, and I don't know what I would do with myself if that were the case. I'm pleading with you brother, to show me that it is not so.

Like I said, I need to see you. Hear you. Feel you. I need you.

Remorse

Lately I've been feeling lots of remorse. I felt remorse about my brothers and my relationship when he was alive and I feel remorse when he's passed. Let me preface this post by saying our relationship was 100 times better in the last 3 years than it was his whole life before that. After our family went through intensive counseling and therapy together in 2009 our whole family formed a new bond, a closer bond, an unbreakable bond.

But as things tend to happen, that bond was slowly loosened as the months went by. I mean, I think we always appreciated each other and had a renewed sense of love for each other, we never again would take each other for granted. But we did lose touch. We did stop talking unless it was in person (which I only saw him about every month or two). That part kills me. We lived in the same damn city! Granted, our two homes were about as far away as you can get in the city. I live in Greenwood, he lived on the NW side. Thats about 50 minutes away. But thats still no excuse. I think what makes my remorse so great is that I KNEW how special he was to me and I CHOSE not to do anything about it, to preserve my relationship with him. I just let it stay stagnant, rather than cultivate and grow our relationship even further. In my mind, our relationship was great compared to before, so I let it be. I should've never compared, I should've continued to make it even better. Thats what makes my remorse so great.

I also feel remorse about how I interacted with him. Now I could possibly be overreacting, as people in grief tend to do, but I am constantly feeling guilty with how I interacted with him. I curse myself for being strict with him. For challenging him. For making him question my belief in him (which I never did). I knew he was capable of great things, but perhaps I pushed him too hard to accomplish those great things. I just wanted to push him, to encourage him to push himself, to make up for lost time (he started college a couple years late). I wanted to push him to continue his college education even when he wanted to quit and make it on his own. I think he thought I didn't think he could make it on his own. I think he thought I thought that he would be nothing without an education. And damn myself for not even entertaining the possibility that he could make it on his own. And damn myself for not giving him more credit to accomplish that on his own. If I had only known that he would no longer be with us, would I have changed my interactions, my expectations, my beliefs about him?

Curse it all. I can't believe how hard I was on him. And I'll never forgive myself for it. Curse myself and my educator status. Curse myself and my high standards, not only for myself, but for my students, and for anyone getting an education. Curse myself for not realizing Evan was not one of my students. He was my g*damn brother. Curse myself for not realizing this when he was alive, but realizing this and regretting this all too late.

If you were here, I would let you find your own way rather than me pushing you to find the way in which I thought was best for you.

I hope you forgive me.



_________________________________________________________________________

UPDATE:
Wow, I just checked my email and look what was waiting for me in my inbox. This couldn't me a more perfect email in response to what I've just written above. Creepy? Or God?

gratitude/details/life on loan

i'm exhausted, so you won't see much effort invested into this blog post, but i am inundated with things i need to get off my chest so here goes.

it pisses me off when i hear people complaining about their lives. don't they realize it could be so much worse? and i only realize that because my life IS so much worse than theirs. I would never say that to their face though. I only think it, which doesn't make my recovery any better. i mean really. so you have sinus problems, you are busy planning your daughters wedding, you are planning your own wedding, you have a crappy job, you are stressed, you have relationship problems, WHATEVER. Just shut up. people are so self involved. its all about them and it so about them they can't even see that it could get so much worse. i'm done with pity parties. ironically, i am feeling this at the same time matthew perry made a  contest out of whose grief is worse on his new show, Go On. I couldn't help but relate ;)

second, details. it has been so long (yeah, right) since his death that i've forgotten that some people still don't know basic details of his death. for a long while, the family wasn't ready to talk about them, so we just said car accident. thank you all for respecting us enough and loving us enough to simply take that answer as is. for the rest of you, go ahead and gossip all you want. we know the honest details of his death. here they are: evan died of brain trauma. he was brain dead upon arrival at the hospital (which was literally just around the corner). that happened at around 10:30 i believe. how did he get such injuries? evan was riding a car. no, he wasn't in it. he was riding it. he wasn't on top, but was leaning against the windshield. he was on the car for far too long and the car was going far too fast (even 1 mph would have been too fast for having a human on it). and yes, he was completely sober. not high. not drunk. nothing but recklessness, nothing but evan. evan made to jump off the car (slide is a better word) when he saw police cars off the side of the road. he knew he'd get yelled at. as he was getting off, the car was pulling over. we think the laws of physics apply here. for every action there is a reaction or something like that ;) evan was sliding off as the car was pulling over and it threw him off the car. his big heavy art bag he had slung over his shoulder didn't help even out the weight either. his head smacked down on the concrete, perfectly hitting the brain stem in the moment of impact. not the side, not the front, just that perfect sweet spot in the back. at the base of your neck, the stem of the brain. responsible for every well being trait in your body. it took about three minutes for him to become throughly brain dead. there was no hope, but there was no pain either. it was quick and painless. the way everyone hopes a loved one dies, right? hah. thats just sordid. by the time the paramedics arrived, they knew there was no hope as well as the neurosurgeons at the hospital. they didn't even attempt emergency surgery to losen the skull (which had multiple fractures, by the way). by the time we got to the hospital, they had already had him on life support. every one knew. i knew. dad knew. mom was in denial. later, in the following weeks and months, we would be in denial as well that he was truly gone. i still am sometimes. the only consoling thought at the fricking hospital was that i could have a few days to say goodbye, that they could sustain him as long we as needed. again, there were no injuries anywhere else on his body (i mean other than the road rash). he lungs were fine, his heart was fine, etc. his injuries were solely head trauma. i'll never forget how he looked in that hospital bed. he still had his hair and his perfect lips and his adorable poteet nose. but his gorgeous eyes? gone, buried under the mass of the brain pushing through his skull. (sorry if that was too much, but this is for me, not you). that was so scaring, what i wouldn't give to look in his gorgeous almond shaped green eyes again (sometimes they were blue, sometimes they were even grey). and what i wouldn't give to say goodbye to him alive, not brain dead. i got to do that with my grandpa. i got to do that all weekend with him. but he died painfully, from pancreatic cancer. why can't my loved ones die with both closure and no pain? why one or the other? anyways, i digress. we thought they could keep him on life support until at least my sister came in on the next flight from california. we were wrong. we had 5 hours with him before the nurse said we should come in and say goodbye. he was already braindead, though, we knew he wasn't there. but know not even life support could sustain him he was that bad. we called in the grandparents to say goodbye. i'll never forget that. i think my grandpa (who had already had developed the cancer but didn't know it yet) lost his spirit that morning he saw his grandson on his deathbed. i've never seen him so broken. he was a fighter his whole life. i've never seen my grandmothers cry like that either. they are both very strong and confident and independent women. both were broken as well. after that, we waited around until they did the ink blot test, to scan for any remaining brain activity. thats why his date of death is officially may 4, because they did the test at 9 am. he was technically dead at 10:30 pm on may 3, 2012. the only consolation from this whole thing was that they were able to donate ALL of his organs. that is so rare. his heart, my own brothers heart, went to a 14 year old boy. if thats not touching i don't know what is.

i could talk for days about those days in the hospital (yes, days). i will never forget those days for as long as i live. i will never forget the smell either. how towards the end the room stunk of death. the blood seeping was too much for me to handle, it was all i could do not to vomit in the room. i will never forget how sallow he looked either. but then when they harvested his organs, kept his vitals up for a couple days for prep for donation, he looked so rosy and full of life. but he was dead. isn't that the biggest case of irony you've ever heard of? how can someone whose dead look so full of life? ugh, its twisted. just twisted.

okay, moving on. lets talk about evans life on loan. for a while now i have felt like evans life was literally on loan from God. most people don't know he was born with a hole in his lungs. i mean, from the very first day of his life he was in the intensive care unit. in the very last days of his life he was in the intensive care unit. from his early days to his last days, evan had too many close calls with life versus death. i had originally wrote them down, but my list is gone. i can mainly think of his using years in his teenage hood. while it was never shooting up, he did alter his state and do stupid stuff. he was reckless. he was in one very serious car crash when he was 17, that catapulted him into rehab. now, looking back, i realize now (as he had often stated in the last year or two) that he wasn't an addict.  or maybe he was at that point in time. but i think really he was just an immature teenager who was making consistently wrong choices with the wrong people, and was in such a lifestyle he couldn't pull himself out. now, as a man, he made his choices, much different than the choices he made as a teenager. he did enjoy his alcohol, but what 21 year old wouldn't? ;) okay, so aside from his reckless teenage years, then came the crazy ass driving. again, reckless. he thought he was invincible, just like my dad. he was a horrible driver. there was a series of 4-5 accidents in 2 and a half years i think? he was lucky to come alive out of all them. again, why did he not die then? God gave us more time with him. God let us have just a little more time with our brother, with our son, with our friend. But God knew it was only a matter of time. We didn't. We were shocked when the accident happened. God wasn't. God did give us quality time together in his last couple months of life, although we didn't see it until after the fact. Hindsight is 20/20, right? I don't know if it was God's choice or not, but God was definitely trying to "soften the blow". Not that that really helped. Anyways, Evan should have died many times over. Evans life was on loan. God let us lease him for 21 years before calling him back Home.

This leads me into another topic- Premonition. I think this post is too long and i am too tired to go into it now. Will save for another entry. Until then, remember, don't take life for granted and count your blessings.

Tears

Im exhausted, but cant sleep.

I may have had my biggest cry yet just now.

I mean, not just crying. Not just whimpers, not even sobbing. I mean, wailing, moaning, groaning that comes from the inner most parts of my heart broken, shattered and shred to pieces soul.

I scared my dog and confused the heck out of my husband.

It did just happen in the middle ofthe night after all.

This week has been so bad. My dad says he has his worst grief in the mornings, but for me, it is by far amd away worse at night. After my house is asleep,when i am reading my book. Then out of my own control, i cant stop thinking about them. They come to visit me in my mind. The haunt me. I am being forced to think about them and cant stop. They are on my mind and wont go away until i break down into tears. Then i am so exhausted by the time i cry it out that i am empty vast and void, emotion and feelings are wiped clear and i am just....there. Then i fall asleep.

Tonight was the worst bc it was the first time i mourned for not just my brother, but my grandpa as well. That was a double whammy.

Lets see if i can somehow manage sleep now.

 Good night world. Good night evan. Good night grandpa. May your spirits leave me in peace.

Work

This week and last week I have been going into my school where I am student teaching at to meet the teacher and the class. I am set to start full time Monday! But something was nagging at me. I just knew what I needed to do- I had to tell my cooperating teacher about Evan today. It was the first time I've "had" to tell someone; someone that wasn't a family member or friend, but a professional coworker. And you know, I had my little photo album and showed her pictures of Evan. I felt it would just make the situation seem more real if she saw him, right? Anyways...

It was necessary, but hard. And I of course choked up. God, when I get so busy and people start going away, I don't get to talk about Evan. So when I DO have to talk about him to people, then its even harder to talk about it. Ugh. But I told her and got through it. You see, I felt I owed her an explanation, or disclaimer, if you will, for my possible behavior and emotional swings that could present themselves in the next several weeks. I needed to tell her that my personal life might impact my professional life this semester. I needed to tell her that grief comes in waves, and I never know when it will hit me, and that I might need to duck in the closet and let some tears fall. Come to think of it, I should probably just keep a box of Kleenex in there all the time ;)

I needed to tell her that I'm not sure how my work ethic might change, and how my professional standards for myself are not as high as they used to be once upon a time. Its just like, I sweated the small stuff before, right? I mean, I was the OVER ACHIEVER, SMALLEST DETAIL, NOTES, ORGANIZED, PLAN AHEAD, HAVE BACK UPS kind a teacher before. Now? I'm just not so sure. I mean, I will still have "good standards" as compared to everyone else. I won't use Evan as an excuse to slack off. Never! But I could see myself just not maintaining that same level of standards that I would have had before all this.

I also needed to tell her that I could need her to step in at any moment if I am up there teaching, and I see something that reminds me of Evan, and I cry, and I need to step away.

She was so supportive! God Bless her for that. I remember months ago and even a couple weeks ago really hoping/praying for the perfect teacher, a teacher who would understand my situation. A COMPASSIONATE teacher. A UNDERSTANDING teacher. A FLEXIBLE teacher. She is all those things and more. Thank you God for the divinely matched teacher and student.

I did wonder though, as all elementary students are so probing and questioning and curious, what do I say when they ask me (because it's inevitable they will) how many brothers and sisters I have? The question alone will make me cry, I don't even know where to begin in my response....just another one of those things...

Potpourri

I'm titling this post "Potpourri" because it is a smorgasbord of topics. The thing with blogging is, it does take time. I can't always run to my computer when I have a thought I want to share, so these thoughts build and build. Hence, a long post and a random one at that. Oh well! Its for my benefit, right? Not the readers, so bear with me!

First up: Visitations. 

I feel like like I am struggling when it comes to Evan visiting me. Countless people have told me, "Evan came to me in a dream last night" or "I saw Evan yesterday". Even "I heard Evan talking to me". I have had none of those experiences. WHY? I am not angry, I am not upset, but I am wondering why I haven't not yet seen or heard my brother after three months of being gone. And will I ever? I know he's out there, I know he is watching us and is with us, but he has never explicitly come to me and made him known.

I will say this, however. I do FEEL him at night. I FEEL his presence in our house, and its not a pinpointed, human form presence. Its more of an all encompassing presence that is floating in the air, blanketing our home with peacefulness and watchfulness. Its only at night I feel him, and most often its when I am still awake and my pets and hubby are sleeping. I look for him (sometimes, though most often I am kind of freaked out still) but never see him. I do feel him often though. And while its comforting to know he's there, I cannot help but yearn for more.

I want him to talk to me again, I want to see him in his beautiful perfect angel form, to see that he is physically okay, and to see that he is emotionally happy, satisfied, and content. This should be understandable to anyone who has lost a loved one, but I think its for me even more because I did not have a chance to say goodbye to him. It was a sudden loss, and it was physically disruptive as well. I want to see him again in his perfect angelic form, to seek that closure I never had. To see that he's okay, and to give him, face to face, my goodbye's that are so long overdue. When I said goodbye to him in the hospital, it was to his spirit, not his body. His body was still alive because of harvesting for organ donations, but his spirit and mind were gone. It's so hard to explain, but I suppose I don't have to try to explain it to anybody but myself :)

Second: Skeletons in the closet.

I know this is a public blog, and I chose to make it publicly available when I first advertised it on Facebook. But I have to tell you, there are some secrets hiding in the midst of our family. So many people are clueless about everything thats happened, all the additional details in his death and subsequent months following it. I am only talking about this for MY sake, NOT yours. I am NOT putting this out there to satisfy the needs of those greedy gossips, who only care for the juicy details and not at all for the wonderful person of who Evan was. I am not putting this out there for the two faced people who are so immature and stuck in the drama of it all that they they can't even see the big picture, that they only think about themselves and not Evan or his family, us. I am putting it out there for MY healing and my healing only. And PLEASE NOTE: don't you dare ask me "What? What secrets?" because if you do, you will automatically be entered into my book of scorn and shame and I will forever cast you into the lot of the people above whom I just mentioned. I will immediately remove you from my circle of trustworthy friends and forever lose respect for you. So there ;)

The fact is, I can't continue to heal unless I get some things off my chest. I may offend some people, I may upset some people by my revelations, but I need to do what I know is best for me. I can't continue to heal while at the same time hiding these secrets in the deaths of my soul, while they are literally eating away at my conscience and body. The term "get it off my chest" will definitely apply here. After all, I started this blog for me. The tagline is "seeking hope and healing" isn't it? Than so be it. I will not be delving into any secrets today, but I may or may not in the future. Consider it a disclaimer if you will. All I know is that I am not dealing only with grieving my brother. I am dealing with so much more family drama on top of it all that any other person dealing with just the drama would be screwed up, much less actually losing a brother on top of it. It was just...one more....damn thing....after another...that its a miracle my family even survived this summer without entering mental institutions! So I may need to talk about it, but this is my online journal, so get used to it :)

Third: Heaven

So a couple weeks after my brothers passing (and note, I will rarely use the word "death"), I read the book "Heaven is For Real". For those of you who don't know what it's about, its about a 4 year old boy who visits heaven while he is in a near death experience here on earth. He is there for a while, but only gone from this earth for about three minutes. This book chronicles his experiences in heaven. I always take everything with a grain of salt, but I like how the book has backups and proof of what the boy saw and learned. Its not just his account, but his account as judged against past family events, members, common knowledge, and biblical truth. So I finally picked it up and read it. Ironically, it had been sitting on our bookshelf for over a year, given to us by my sister in law, who said it was a really great read, and that when we were done, we were to pass it along to someone else. Funny that book sat there for so long, and it finally took my losing my brother to open it up. And boy, am I sure glad I did. I thought I'd slowly read it over the course of a few days, but I ended up reading it all in two hours. Of course, the academic in me simply can't read a book without taking notes over it, so I did. I didn't highlight parts in it because I knew I wanted to pass it along, and believe me, that was hard. I'm a highlighting fiend :) But I did take notes in the back. How could I not?

You see, I was searching for answers, big time. Answers as to where Evan was, what it was like there, and was he happy. I was not into religious answers, or fluffy overused cliches of heaven. I was into concrete details, how they could be applied to the person Evan is, and how heaven relates personally to Evan. Needless to say, I found what I needed. I do believe there are several tear drop stains in several parts of the book. Here are my findings, as related to Evan, in bullet point form:

• NOTES on simple components of Heaven:
• There are angels singing. (Evan always had a lovely voice, even though he didn't think so)
• The boy went "up and out of my body" he said. He was watching everybody do everything from "up there". This is what I have always thought about angels and spirits in heaven- that there are omniscient and omnipresent. So its true, Evan is with us at all times and can see everything we do. That also means he was in the hospital room with us as we spent our last few hours with him. His body was still there, but his spirit was already separated from his body. I feel that because of the nature of his injury, because he was pronounced "braindead" that his spirit left his body almost immediately. That is just my belief, and perhaps I'll delve into that more deeply in the future. Fact is, he was with us in that room and he is with us now.
• Heaven is full of colors; some colors we've never seen with our own human eyes even! Millions and millions of colors! As an artist, Evan had an appreciation of color, and as a meditative person as well. He would love this component of heaven.
• Everyone is in human form in heaven. Now, this contrasts with some other books I've read that state everyone is in pure energy form, but this is more comforting to me, right now, so that's what I'll choose to believe for the moment. :) Jesus, angels, and our loved ones are all in human form and are able to physically touch each other. Hugs all around!
• Everyone has wings, of differing sizes. Not just the angels. I wonder how big Evan's are :) Do guardian angels have bigger wings? because if so, then he would. I know in my heart he is someone's guardian angel right now. He was a protector life, and he will be a protector in his after-life, of that I'm sure.
• People meet and reunite in heaven; they recognize each other even if they've never met in real life. Not only that, these loved ones are the first ones to greet Evan as he enters heaven. So Evan was greeted by his Grandmother Dorothy (whom he never met), Grandpa Jim (whom he hadn't seen since he was 8!), friends of loved ones, and who knows? Maybe even closer relatives to him than that. In turn, I like to think that Evan was with Grandma Dorothy when greeting my Grandpa Scott in heaven, who passed just 9 weeks after my brother. With a big lopsided smile on his face, saying to Grandpa, "let me show you around".
• There is nature in heaven. Animals, flowers, trees, COLOR. Evan was big into nature, although he loved the cities too, but it was recently made aware of how much he was awe-inspired by nature though his trip to the Redwood Forest in California in the spring and his recent commitment to ensuring animal rights through practicing veganism. So you've got it, Ev. Nature is protected in heaven, and you can be a part of it!
• No old people in heaven and no imperfections. Everyone is in the prime of their life. My grandpa, I imagine will be in his 40's or so, young enough to still hop around the tennis courts but old enough to still have all his wisdom gained. My brother, who was as old as he would ever get, at age 21, I imagine is still 21, but all his injuries sustained in the car accident are gone. He is in perfect form, and even his skin might be flawless lol. You don't have to worry about anymore pimples, Ev. I hope he still has that wild unkempt hair though! :)

I have only written simple notes on heaven. For this post, which I feel is long enough, I will leave it at that. Perhaps my next post will contain the real nitty gritty of what I pulled from the book- my reflections and revelations of Heaven and as it relates to Evan's passing. You'll see :) 

I want to leave you with the picture of Evan gazing up at the immense redwoods in CA. You can see from his body language just how inspired he was by the beauty of the nature around him. 

I would say "rest in peace" brother, but Evan was never a very restful person, was he? He's probably too busy exploring heaven or visiting with others here to rest much :)

Time

Yesterday was three months that you were gone. 

Three months. 

How can it only be three months? And yet, where did those three months go?

Time is something I'm struggling with. I have always been aware of time. As a history major, I know how time defines our lives, our society, and the world we live in. Time is to be respected, noted, and appreciated because you only live in one speck of the continuum of time, and it flies by before you know it. In that speck of time, you must decide how to make the most of it. How will you leave your mark on history? What will you contribute to your community, society, and your loved ones in that small very split second of time that you live in? 

Would it be ironic that I've always asked myself these questions, and yet, how they can be so perfectly applied to losing my brother? 

So back to time. and my struggles. I have NEVER in my life been so completely confused by time. Aware of it, yes. Valuing it, yes. But stuck in a continuous time warp of not knowing where I am or what day it is? Not knowing how many weeks its been since, yet, subconsciously counting the days in my head regardless? Can't believe how fast time has flown by, but yet, feeling stuck in time? Good grief, I'm so lost in this thing we call time now. And I was always on top it. I was always the looking forward to, marking it down on my calendar, countdown kinda girl. Yet I always knew not to look forward to everything, because then you are wishing away the time you have in the present. I almost prided myself on this respect and view of time.

But after my brother, oh good grief, I've lost my bearing on time. Time manipulates me. Time eludes me. Time confuses me. Time sneaks by me, and time makes me stand still in it. How can it do both things at once? I will never know. And I suppose only those who have been through what I have will understand this phenomenon. 

Let me try to sum up the past three months in terms of my grief:

Month 0-1: Complete and utter shock, mixed in with moments of gut wrenching despair. Time was at a stand still during this first month.

Month 1-2: Alot of "unfeeling" during this month. I felt bad for not feeling bad enough. I didn't have much emotions during this time. It was during this month that time flew by. 

Month 2-3: Shock has worn off. Still battle with denial at times. But the awareness that my brother is physically gone from this earth is here, like a bitter cold wave, sucking me under water, so long at times, I feel like I won't ever have the last breath of fresh air again. And when that wave is gone, it spits me up on the beach, like a rag doll, tossed and trashed and broken. It uses and loses me. Then I slowly pick myself up, fix my clothes, toss the sand out of my hair, and place one foot in front of another. Looking and walking toward the sunrise, for the only beautiful thing in my sight until another harsh wave takes me again. But its those moments of walking into the sunrise that keep me going, rather than completely caving in to the waves and never coming back up. Time is conflicting: it flies by, yet doesn't go anywhere. Time is a blur, to put it simply. 

Evan Scott Poteet, you have been gone three months now, and with every passing day, I miss you more and more. Sometimes that miss, which is just an emotion for some people, but that miss presents itself physically in my body. That miss, which I can physically feel, spreads achy feelings throughout the very core of my body and can be so overwhelming that it literally takes my breath away. Words are not enough to explain how much I wish I could see you again. I love you. Forever and always. <3

The Blogging World

Okay, I would be remiss if I didn't mention that I have been blog stalking for awhile now. Since Pinterest exploded I have been introduced to the world of beyond adorable teaching blogs. Knowing what I new about them, I was inspired to start my own blog, though not for teaching purposes. So I signed up with a basic blogger template (what you all saw a couple days ago).

HOWEVER, since exploring the wonderful world wide web, I have become OBSESSED with blog design and simply CANNOT choose JUST ONE template! Ahhhh the cruel cruel torture of having just one at a time!

So just a disclaimer- you may check in often and my site may not look like ANYTHING the last time you were here, but that's simply because I just love patterns and color and design too much to let my blog sit the same for long! Hey, as long as I still have The Fanny Pack Impact as my blog title, you'll know you are in the right place :)

I thought I'd share just one site I'm currently obsessed with for blog backgrounds and designs (did I mention it's FREE!!!!) : Shabby Blogs.com! Thanks Miss Jillian for the recommendation. ;)

I'll leave you with one fascinating fact:
Before Facebook I was getting about 3 hits a day.
Since opening it up to the Facebook world, I got over 100 hits yesterday!
Amazing huh?

Ahhhh bloggerspace!

The fanny pack impact

So in this post, I'm going to attempt to explain the name of my blog.

You see, my brother was the epitome of what you would call "charismatic".

He had wild hair. Bright eye drawing clothes. Loud laugh. Attention seeking behavior. The life of the party. Broke the rules. Didn't care. And he wore a fanny pack.

I don't know why, of all the things I remember about my brother, I keep going back to this dang fanny pack! I think perhaps because its a single tangible item that best embodies the essence of who he was.

We all know that fanny packs are soooo not in style, right? We make fun of people with fanny packs. We question why in the hell are they wearing one? But my brother did. He always chose "function over fashion" as my dad stated. He got tired of packing his cargo pants full (well, often he just wore pocketless gym shorts!) so he had to have something to carry all of his crap. So he dug through our house and chose my dads old, worn out, black leather fanny pack. And he wore it all the time, no matter where we went or what he were doing. Because he simply didn't care what people thought of him! I loved it then, and I love it now :)

So that explains the fanny pack part. Now about the impact part.

By impact, I simply mean legacy. I want to eventually explore my brothers lasting legacy. What he brought to this earth, and what he left behind. How he inspired others, and his lasting impact on us all.

So I'm seeking to tie the tangible remnants of him {the fannypack} to the intangible {his lasting impact on our lives}. In doing so I hope to find that hope and healing I claim to be seeking under the title of my blog.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here's my brother to the left, with his
fanny pack and his friend Tyler.

I think this picture pretty much captures who my brother was. Going grocery shopping
in the middle of the night, renting a cart, and looking at a red box from it.
Goofy, did what he wants, and totally didn't care. :)

Behind Closed Doors "Poetry"

I don't consider myself a "poet" in the slightest, but sometimes my feelings are so heavy on my heart I just need to write in raw form, forgetting syntax and conventions, just letting it out however it comes out. That said, I scratched this down on scrap paper on the way home this weekend:

Behind Closed Doors

You see me

so well put together

You see me

as if nothing ever happened

I tell myself

"I'm okay"

"This isn't so bad"

Then I leave

and I'm ambushed by these feelings

You see me

with a smile on my face

and its genuine,

then.

But then I leave

and I'm ambushed by these feelings

"What was I thinking?

I can't do this any more

I can't play two faced games

I can't be dishonest with myself

Tell myself I'm fine one minute

then guilty the next"

I think its helping being with you

but I'm not so sure

because these feelings remain

behind closed doors.

You see me leave

but behind closed doors

I'm breaking apart

tearing down

and numb,

tears streaming down my face,

which is wretched in pain.

I put up a good front

with you

for you

for me

but behind closed doors...

I can be me.

Behind Closed Doors

I'm realizing that hanging out with others is not necessarily beneficial to my recovery. Maybe theres a fine line to it. But this weekend I went from hanging out with one crowd to the next the whole time. I was around people constantly.

In the end, though, I only ended up hurting even more.

Like I was so busy I couldn't let myself process my grief. I held it at bay, because of:

the elephant in the room
I didn't want to "go there"
time limitations
social conventions
{just to name a few}

People don't like talking about death, you know? So I can't talk about it but its still there.

Holding these feelings at bay, days on end is NOT healthy, and in the end its more painful than just letting it out as it comes.

So what if I cause awkwardness?

Its MYSELF and MY recovery I have to deal with.

For the first time in my life I get to, no, NEED to, put myself first.

So if that means crying in my friends bathroom at their house or crying myself to sleep at night, then I'm going to.

Because in the end that is better than never identifying those feelings in the first place.

From Heart to Hand

People say, "I'm so strong"

"I'm holding up so well."

"What an inspiration you are."

Well, f--- that. 

It's B.S.

I know the truth,

the rawness of reality.

Truth is, I'm barely holding on.

I'm hanging on by a thread.

And its [I'm] starting to come undone.

One strand at a time.

Little Things

Little things in life are unnerving me. Little random things that wouldn't phase most people, unless they've lost a loved one too.

Like yesterday. I was in the shower rocking out to those old 80's rock songs, and Knockin on Heaven's Door came on (the Guns N Roses version). I mean, how many times had I heard that song before? Sang right along? But when it came on this time, I just stood there, contemplating those lyrics and how much they applied to my brother. I just stood there crying in the shower.

See, I have this philosophy he was knocking on heavens door his whole life, well, maybe more like, God was trying to take him Home his whole life, because he had had MANY other close calls, but he made it 21 years in this life before he went home. In those three minutes he lay lying on the roadside, he was knocking on heavens door. I couldn't help but visualize the whole thing when this song came on.

Another little thing happened. I was watching Deadliest Catch (i know i know) and this one fisherman died from...what else...but...head trauma. A cable line snapped in two and went reeling into his head. He was dead within 10 minutes. Evan was brain dead with 3 minutes of hitting that damn pavement. I was sobbing, tears STREAMING down my face. This guy died from the same injury my brother did. And both died WAY to quickly, no chance to say goodbyes, for last loving parting words, no chance for rescue to come. It was too late.

For how long will these little things bother me? Will I ever be able to handle them again without breaking down?

I imagine myself in a bar 10 years from now, out with girlfriends for a night out on the town, and all of a sudden one of Evan's songs come on. Will I drop everything and run? Will I cry there or hide in the restroom? Will I even notice at all?

I guess only time will tell...

Number

I was scrolling through my contacts list on my phone today and my finger slipped right on your name. it pulled up your name and number and asked if i wanted to call you.

that unnerved the hell out of me.

its like, you are still stored in my phone, but you are not even here anymore. how can that be?

they say you can't control grief. i think thats becoming very apparent.

like today. for the first time since you passed, i was able to tell someone that i lost you without breaking down into tears. i was very proud of myself. it was actually quite easy to talk about you.

but then, when i see your name in my contact list i break down.

you definitely can't control grief.

of that i'm positive.

Why

I'm sitting here. Crying. Tears streaming down my face. Watching news footage about the shooting at the Colorado movie theater. Wondering why.

Why do bad things have to good people?

Why do they have to happen to people so young?

Why can't everyone just live a full life, why do some lives have to get cut so short?

Why are things like this allowed to happen?

It isn't fair.

{and don't give that "life's not fair" bullshit. I ain't looking for generic, cliche, and overused mantras here}

I heard the oldest person killed was only 45. Most of them were young adults. My brothers age. He died tragically too. Like them, his life was cut way to short as well.

When will I be able to watch tragedies like this without sobbing?

Will I ever be able to watch things like this without thinking of my brother?

Meet my brother

Meet my brother, Evan Scott Poteet. Age 21. 

Wild [awesome] hair. Unkempt facial hair. Tie die shirt. Piercing eyes. 

Here he is as a toddler. He is the cutest thing, isn't he? 

Here he is as superman for Halloween one year. He was that superman for several Halloweens in a row :)

Here he is just this last football season, with my parents, watching my husband coach his high school football team at Lucas Oil Stadium. This picture captures his pure goofiness and zest for life :)

Here he is just this last Christmas, with me [middle] and my niece [holding] and my sister. Don't we three just look like peas in a pod. Little did we know...

Here is his latest timeline photo on Facebook. It was taken at Napa Valley, CA on our latest family vacation together. Little did we know...

It would be used as the opening segment into his funeral service on May 10, 2012.

Here is his high school senior picture. Little did we know...

It would be the picture in his obituary, funeral program, and memorial service card. 

This is my brother, Evan Scott Poteet. He was tragically killed in a car accident around 10:30 pm on May 3, 2012. He was 21 years old.

This is my brother, Evan Scott Poteet. And he is now in heaven, surrounded by angels.