First of all, I know it’s been a long time since I last wrote in my blog, unfortunately nursing school and general day to day shit got in the way. Although I have not spoken of my grief for a wee while now, it is still very raw and very overwhelming at times. It is fitting that I write this a week and half out from the one year “anniversary” as there is a large amount of dread, anticipation, and emotions that lead up to the horrible day. First of all I would like to discuss the so called ‘stages’ of grief. Now I don’t know who decided that grief has stages, but whoever it was has painted the idea that grief has a beginning and end point. I can tell you right now that this is so far from true. While the factors of anger, denial, etc are a part of grief, they are most definitely not in set stages. They can come at any time and do not follow any typical pattern, they also never fully stop. After nearly a year of carrying my loss with me I can say that it is something that will never leave me. While it may ‘ebb and flow’ like waves, it it still always present. It is rooted within my soul and at any time it can suddenly overcome me and paralyse me with intense emotions of pain, longing, heart ache, and depression. I believe that our grief comes a part of us, it is something we can not move on from, leave behind, or forget. Although I carry on functioning, loving, living, learning, and growing – I still carry Ira within me and I am forever thinking of him, remembering, and grieving his absence in my life. People often ask “how do you do it? you seem so okay”, ‘okay’ is a word that is thrown around a lot – seeming okay is the art of bearing the strength to wake up and face the day when inside you are aching for your loved one. I think people often expect that after the ‘year anniversary’ you are just going to be okay again and carry on with life as if nothing happened. Also as the first year passes we get further away from Ira’s presence, voice, smell, and life. As I age, Ira doesn’t, and that breaks my heart to millions of pieces. I’m afraid as the time passes people will forget to talk about Ira, and as I continue to grow I will not be able to share my experiences with Ira. I think what I have found the hardest is knowing that no one can ever fully share the same intensity of your grief as you do, and even when others are around – you are still very much alone in your thoughts, feelings, and emotions. Death is still dumbfounding to me. The thought that our life can be taken from us within seconds, and just never return again. You expect to lose you elders in time, but you never expect to lose your younger sibling. Siblings are meant to be there always, they are always the people you can count on and fall back on no matter what. You believe they are indestructible and will be around forever – I certainly believed Ira would be with me forever.  It is unnatural for a family to lose someone so young to such a tragedy, especially when they had just gone to work for the day and you didn’t say goodbye because you knew they would be coming home at the end of the day – or not. I still have flashbacks of Ira’s lifeless body in our lounge, it is the most crushing and horrifying thing to physically look at your loved one looking as they were before the passed, but feeling the absence of their presence. For the 5 days we had Ira at home I could not leave his side. It absolutely crushed my soul holding his cold limbs and face. Having to say goodbye and watch as the dirt covered his coffin in the intense December heat is an agony I will never forget. To this day I sit at his grave and still can not believe that he really is gone and that I am mourning at my own brothers grave. I think our minds do their best to protect us by numbing things which are too painful to fully take in. I know he is gone, but I still don’t want to believe it and part of me still looks for him in crowded places. Every tall lanky blonde boy with sharp bone structure, short hair, and tan pants is Ira. Every boy on a red scooter is Ira. The repeated sound of a bouncing basket ball is Ira. It is so weird being an only child when I know I am not really an only child. It is incredibly lonely. I long for Ira every day. There are so many things that happen and I think ‘I so need to tell Ira this’ – and then I remember I can’t. It’s hard having so many childhood memories, private jokes, and just stupid little things that only he would get. Being with my family now leaves a wounding reminder that someone very important is missing. It’s like trying to make a jigsaw without one of the main pieces – the picture will never be the same again. Days such as Christmas no longer mean anything without you Ira. We function as a family but we are not the same, and we never will be. I love my parents dearly, and I know they love me more than anything – but I know that I can never complete them without Ira here too. A year later I still can only think ‘why’, ‘how’, ‘what the fuck’. It really just is not fair. Not only do I grieve for Ira’s past, I grieve for the what would have been. I constantly wonder who he would be today, in 5 years time, in 20 years time, what kind of dad and uncle he would be. Instead he’s stuck at 17 and I have to continue to age every second of every day. I miss everything about you Ira. All your annoying little habits, your voice, your laugh, your wit, your humour, your sensitivity, your kind heart, your ability to lift people, your determination and motivation, your pestering, your charming ways, etc. I miss you looking up to me and asking for my advice. I miss texting you, facebook messaging you, and skyping you. I refuse to remove you from my contacts because then it will seem real. I miss the play fights, the pushing around, the banter, the witty remarks, the name calling. I miss the bonding times. I miss our silly little tiffs and arguments over ridiculous things. I miss you being a sore loser at absolutely every game we would play. I miss hearing you yelling at your games on your PC. I miss your sayings. I miss you calling me fat and ugly. I miss the constant reminders of your tallness. I miss your basketball obsession. I miss hearing you sing along to QOTSA. I could say so much more but it is making me cry too much and I’m getting tears all over the keyboard. I miss you so fucking much, it really is quite overwhelming. I wish I could talk to you and hear your reply. I never thought things would be this way, nearly a year later and I still don’t understand how my little brother could be gone. It tears me up inside. I wonder what you would think if you knew you weren’t here, I reckon you’d be super pissed off. Life is so cruel and unexpected. This time last year I had just got home for the summer, happy as I could be, and so were you. It was your ‘summer buzz’, but less than 2 weeks later your summer buzz was abruptly ended without any warning. What the fuck. How the fuck. But I’m not gonna go off on that tangent because it’s a never ending circle. What I’m trying to say is, I miss you more than anything right now (and just all the time) and I really can’t wrap my head around the fact that it’s nearly been a whole year since you last graced our presence. Not a minute goes by that you aren’t on my mind. I love you more than anything and every new year that passes I will long for you and wish you were still here.