When you can walk on water let me know...

[heather]

Hello Grief Siblings,

This is what the man writing out my Celexa perscription said to me...about the guilt of not helping my little brother not choose death.

"He said when you can walk on water...let me know I would like to watch"...

Oddly enough this was helpful, not one of us here could of prevented this from happening, we are not all knowing all controlling or powerful like God. We are all so fragile, life is so fragile after the suicide of a sibling....it was before this death and we just didn't know.... I supose.

We are approaching the second heaven birthday May 2 of my precious brother, I am having longer stents of my "new normal" but then something weird sends me back to his death. Tonight I was not thinking about it or him, I was sitting outside on my swing and my husband went inside and upstairs and shut the miniblinds...the shadow of the rope swung back and forth and I wondered if my brother swung back and forth when he hung himself???

I guess I am weird, it is a part of this new me a weird, fragile, colorless, medicated me.

But..I am still here.cyber (((heather hugs)))

[psyquestor]

(((Heather)))) I get that too sometimes. I think it's normal to have set backs during this journey and often strange things will remind us of what we've lost. I think the sentiment that we are not supernatural and could not prevent the suicides that brought us here is a good one.

Thank you for sharing that quote with us here. I'm sure it will help many.

[cali]

heather, your loss is around 4 months younger than mine. I'm glad you are still here. fragile, colorless, medicated, I understand. The colors will come back. It is normal to have the thoughts you have. A big event happened. It will pop up everywhere for- I don't know how long. If we notice, acknowledge but not get stuck and worry it if we can help it, then this is progress. If you get stuck there are ways to move through those moments.
when you see something saturated and wonderful, just take a moment to acknowledge it, and then slip back to the safety that you require for now. We become so sensitive that we experience the opposite, we shut down because it is just too much to take in. The "it" becomes more than loss, It becomes everything. I have never forgotten walking with my childhood friend in the woods a few years ago- we are both in our fifties now. She has lived with schizophrenia her whole life. She is medicated, heavily. She is an artist and a musician in a symphony orchestra, an organic gardener and has been in a loving, challenging, 25 year relationship with her husband, whom she finally married a few years ago.
The woods were very beautiful, a hobbit-land of plush brilliant green moss covered roots and towering trees, birds, little bell flowers and the full ocean of crashing, sun-painted waves below the granite cliffs. She said to me later: "It was so beautiful I had to get out of there. The waves of sensations were coming into me and overwhelming me and i thought I was going to be physically ill."
Whatever it is, it is generally too much now, so I've grayed it out. You are not alone. I sit beside you here in grey land, and hold your hand and tell you about my friend who can see too many colors. One day we will see some of them again. ((hugs)) cali

[heather]

Thank you so much ladies,

Tammy, I was hoping it could resinate with any one of us, it really helped me with my perspective...walking on water.

Cali, I wept like a babe when I read your post...your a wonderful writer and I appreciated you sharing your wonderful friend with me.

I realized that when these significant dates are approaching...my brother's birthday is next week. He is always... just under the surface and well it just hurts so damn bad...as we all know. I still can't believe that I am the soul keeper of my childhood memories...it's just over, the life that I lived and for some reason assumed we would have together...it's just so damn different and strange.

(((Hugs)))