One week ago

Last Tuesday my family buried my youngest sibling - Alex. It was the most difficult day I've had in my entire life (delivering my babies included). It's not an easy thing to lose someone you love. I never understood that phrase until now. Today was a particularly bad day for me. I'm not sure if it's because of all the memories of last Tuesday, or because of the gloomy weather. Nevertheless, I've done a whole lot of sobbing today. Thank goodness for tissues with lotion.

I took this picture of "Al bob" in August of 2011. He never wanted to have his picture taken, so I consider it a major miracle that I have this one. As I look as his happy smiling face it seems like a terrible nightmare that he has been taken away from our family.

Alex was a wonderful 19 year old who had recently started going back to church because he realized his life was lonely and without purpose. Oddly enough, he had just purchases a brand new suit the week before he passed. My mother calls it inspiration - I call it desperately sad. Alex looked so amazing in that new suit while he laid so peacefully in his casket.

The last time I saw Alex was at an impromptu family bar-b-que we hosted at our house two weeks before he passed away. I am so thankful for that happy time we got to spend with each other. He and I would always laugh about the way his phone received text messages. He had it set on a high pitched buzz so that my Mom wouldn't be able to hear it. Funny enough, he and I were the only ones that could out of my entire family. I think that high pitch buzzes will always remind me of him.

I went to the grocery store today and say a kid that looked similar to Alex. It was painful. I left the store chocking the tears back and my sweet 4 year old asked me if I was crying again because of Uncle Alex. Yes, sweetheart, I am. He asked me if I will still cry when he is old and grownup. I told him I think I will always cry until I'm back with Al Bob again.

Alex loved his motorcycle. I dare to say that he loved it more then anything he has ever had in his entire life. On the evening of April 25th he took his motorcycle up Payson canyon for a beautiful ride - one that he would never return from. Coming down he lost control of the bike and went off the side of the road. He landed on his head 20 feet below in a river. Someone saw him in the river and tried to call 911 but there was no cell service. Thankfully, others were willing to drive down the canyon while other witnesses tried to pull Al out of the river. An autopsy was done and blunt force trauma was his cause of death. Of all the ways to go, I'm glad he 1) did it while having fun on his motorcycle 2) was killed on impact so he wasn't in much pain.

I've always had a persistent feeling that I would experience the death of a loved one. I've always assumed that it meant I would lose my husband. Perhaps that will still happen, but I never thought I would lose my little brother. 

I've learned a lot about grief and how badly it can hurt. In the short time since Al's death (only 13 days) I've learned that it doesn't help to hold the sadness in. I've learned that talking about it to anyone who will listen helps the process. I've also learned that nobody will ever be able to take the sorrow away. I've been told that losing a loved one is a process and that it takes time to heal. I've never been a patient person and I often get frustrated with this process. However, the outpouring of love from so many people keeps me going on the rough days. 

Like today - the hubby was abnormally late coming home from work. In fact when he wasn't home 90 minutes after his normal routine I called his office. His sweet and amazing assistant answered the phone and explained that they had been tied up working on a presentation for an upcoming Conference. Then, with genuine caring in her voice she asked how I was doing. She listened while I sobbed and sobbed and then she offered me this comfort - having it hurt so bad is proof that you loved the person deeply. She's absolutely right. This sweet lady is my idol. She lost her husband years ago, and without any children of her own, she has spent many days and nights sobbing. In fact, she told me if I ever needed a sobbing partner to call her up. I just might do that. I still have a lot to learn and she is a very wise teacher.

It seems like everyday or so someone will say something that makes me really think about things. For instance, this past Sunday a cousin said that just because something is different doesn't mean it has to be bad. This experience is so different from me and I'm trying my best not to make it a bad thing. I also read this morning in the scriptures about how obstacles are what make us stronger. Will this sorrow make me stronger? I already feel it refining and defining my inner strength. I think the key for me it to realize that grief is a process. I will always miss my brother. I will always wish that he was here. I will always wonder why he was taken from us. But, at the end of the day, I realize that this life is a time to prepare to meet my God and while I'm doing so I'll always be working towards being back with my brother again.

At his funeral my mother asked me to please speak. I knew it would be an emotional struggle for me to speak, but I was able to compose this poem about my brothers boots that he wore.

His shoes were simple sandals

The roads were paved with dust

He went about healing thousands

Often with a simple touch.

His life was full of service

He loved with all his heart

He cared for those most needy

Love, set Him apart.

Because of Christ, our Savior

My brother Alex will live again

This time is just a parting

Until I meet with him again.

Al’s shoes are so much bigger

Then my feet will ever be

But, his love for friends and family

Is the quality most dear to me

These shoes represent

A life so large and strong

Serving others was his mantra

He lived it his whole life long

While your anxiously engaged

In the work there is to do

Don’t forget we need your comfort

To help us make it through.

One day we’ll all be together

In that Heavenly home above

And then – finally – we’ll understand

Your short earthly labor of love.

Alex worked at Oil N' Go and these boots protected his feet from all sorts of hazards day in and day out. I'm so thankful that my Mom gave his boots to me. A few days after Alex passed I was down at the parents house and she told me they were all ruined because of the accident. However, when I inspected them, they didn't look that bad. So I took them home and they inspired me to write the poem. Right now his boots  are being displaying in my front room because I can't stop thinking about them. A little pathetic I know, but it sure has helped me when the heartache is really bad.

I know Heavenly Father is, and will continue to hold my hand through this difficult and painful process. I only hope that I will be a humble and submissive student as I learn the things he requires of me. Until next time.

-Laurie Ann