Lately I have a little bit more bandwidth. Lately I have started being able to do some of the things I used to do. And lately, people have been saying to me: “You’re back.”
Please don’t be mistaken, friends. I am in no way “back.” You see, there is no coming back from where I have been. To say that I am “back” is to imply that somehow I have returned to the girl I was before eleven o’clock in the morning on December 11th, 2014.
Before I got that horrible phone call. Before my world was shaken and my heart was shattered.
That girl is gone. She will never return.
I think you could more easily resuscitate my brother than the girl that I was on December 10th. People have said often that they “miss the old me.” I can tell you this: Not as much as I do. I would give anything to undo the damage that has been done.
Mostly because undoing that damage would mean that my brother would still be here laughing and scheming and breathing. But he is not. And because of that, I carry a weight and a scar that will go with me until Jesus calls me home.
Do not misunderstand me. I am not without hope and peace and joy. I have those things. But I also have anguish and pain that sometimes levels me. Sometimes I look at a picture of him and the realization that he is really gone and he is gone forever, it punches me straight in the gut. Most days I feel completely irreparable.
I am moving forward. But I will never move on. His death will now always be a part of me, just like Paul himself will always be a part of me.
This week is Suicide Awareness Week. Light a candle. Buy a shirt from Sevenly (their campaign this week benefits National Suicide Prevention Lifeline). Pray for my family. Remember Paul..
The man, the myth, my brother.