It sounds strange, but I have spent a lot of time during my life thinking about death. Grief has been a welcome stranger from my life for the most part, and a part of me has always wondered how I would cope with the loss of someone incredibly close to me. I have lost people. I lost my beautiful Grandma six months ago, we lost Reid's wonderful Nan when I was six weeks pregnant with Isaac, I lost my great-Uncle Ken who I loved so much and I lost my beloved Nanna Sue during my first year of Uni. All of those losses really hurt. I grieved. I still miss them. I will always miss them. But to think of something happening to Reid, my parents, my siblings, my nieces or nephew, or heaven forbid Isaac, it's the kind of place you try not to let your mind wander. It's too painful to even fathom. And yet. Here we are. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared me, for the horror that has been the last three weeks of my life. Of my family's life.
My 42 year old brother, Gary, was killed in a tragic truck accident on May 4th, 2020. The most unexpected, horrendous kind of nightmare has become our reality.
I haven't had a lot of time to actually process what's happened to be honest. My other older brother and I sort of leapt straight into planning/caring mode. I barely left my parents' sides for two weeks. We were with our niece and our sister-in-law as much as we physically could be as well. We came to the horrible realisation that our sister wasn't going to be able to get here from the remote part of the Northern Territory she's living in at the minute due to the current Covid-19 restrictions, and her heartbreak and isolation added another layer of suffering to what was already such an impossible time. Our Dad has been having radiation treatment for the last seven weeks and this had to continue daily. More layers of heartbreak. My beautiful niece, Gary's daughter, was able to get home from Melbourne immediately but then had to spend 14 days quarantining with none of us allowed in her house. We could talk to her while she stood in the doorway and we stood/sat two metres away on the porch. More layers of heartbreak. The layers just kept piling on and on and yet somehow... the world kept turning. I couldn't, and still can't understand how life was just continuing while our world had been completely blown apart. I realise that sounds selfish, and it's certainly something I couldn't understand or had even thought about before experiencing something like this. The shift feels so palpable on a global scale to me. It's impossible to fathom that not everybody was feeling it. It makes no rational sense to think that, but that's one of the things that have been running through my mind. Seeing people go about their daily lives, seeing posts on Facebook and Instagram and people making jokes and getting on with things - but our lives stopped. Irreparably torn.
I don't understand how it's possible that I'm never going to see him again. His name will never pop up on my phone again. He's never going to play with Isaac again. Far out, he loved Isaac so much. Gary and I had a volatile relationship, like lots of brothers and sisters I guess, but at its core was love, forgiveness and an unspoken agreement that although we were different in so many ways, it didn't matter, because we had each other's backs no matter what. He drove me so crazy a lot of the time, but far out, what I wouldn't give for one more argument with him. One more chance to deal with him in a bad mood, where he would explode with anger - I don't care.
I've been sharing a lot on social media how much he meant to me, trying to shout from the rooftops about the kind of man he was and how much I am going to miss him. My thoughts are consumed with memories and I can feel my brain wrestling with the knowledge that he's gone. It doesn't feel real. Maybe I will always be waiting for him to drive into my driveway, or call me because he's bored, or torture me at a family function by doing his best to stir Isaac up as much as physically possible. Always waiting. Internally begging to see him again.
I feel like my sharing is too much and that people don't want to see or read or hear about things like grief. It's not a comfortable topic, it can come across as attention seeking (I do not want attention, I want Gary), and there comes a time when I feel it's kind of like "get over it already". I don't seem to be able to process this at all. The only thing that helps is talking about him, and even that doesn't really "help" but it feels like it's the only way I can keep him here, keep him with me. I want to keep reminding people that it's not over for us. That it will never be "over". Our lives are altered in a way I wouldn't wish upon anyone. The searing, initial pain of learning he was gone is something I could never describe. The complete sense of hopelessness, of disbelief, of pure heartbreak - watching my Mum collapse to the ground, seeing my Dad sob, watching my other brother walk away to make the most horrible phone calls, holding my sister-in-law as she made the phone call to my niece - it's not the way that life is meant to be. These things happen every day, I get that, and I have always felt so much empathy towards people who have suffered in this way, but May 4th, 2020, was our turn. And it is hell.
Gaz seemed invincible, to all of us. He had quite a few "near misses" in his adventurous, mischief-filled life and it seemed like the only thing that would ever be a risk to him, was old age. The shock of it all feels so raw, like every morning is a brand new ache, but it's not new, it's now our "normal". He's not here. And it hurts.
His funeral was... horrible, obviously - the Covid-19 issues making everything so much worse. Having said that, the respect that people had for Gary was so incredibly evident, not to mention how much he was loved. A convoy of trucks, cars and motorbikes followed him from the funeral home to the cemetery. There were people lining the streets across four different suburbs. 30 of us were allowed at the graveside, but people crowded outside the cemetery fence. The live-streamed part of the service had the biggest amount of devices connect to it since the pandemic started (for the funeral home we dealt with). Far out, he was loved. He was so very, very loved, and always will be.
I know it's going to take time to come to terms with any of this. It will always hurt, we will always miss him more than words can explain. He would never want us to be miserable, and I know we will be able to feel happiness again, even though our lives will be forever tinged with sorrow. He will be with us forever, in our hearts and our memories which sounds super lame, but there isn't really another way to describe it.
I've been finding comfort in music, both playing the piano and also listening to Gary's favourite bands/songs, and I feel like it would be fitting to share the lyrics from one of the songs we played at his funeral - it's almost as if I can hear him saying the words to us. He is with us. He is part of us. He will never be forgotten.
I love you big brother, more than you could ever know. Thank you for everything you taught me and thank you for loving me so unconditionally. Isaac will never forget his Uncle Gaz, we look for the brightest star in the sky every night. You are with us all, today and every day. Rest peacefully. xo.
My 42 year old brother, Gary, was killed in a tragic truck accident on May 4th, 2020. The most unexpected, horrendous kind of nightmare has become our reality.
I haven't had a lot of time to actually process what's happened to be honest. My other older brother and I sort of leapt straight into planning/caring mode. I barely left my parents' sides for two weeks. We were with our niece and our sister-in-law as much as we physically could be as well. We came to the horrible realisation that our sister wasn't going to be able to get here from the remote part of the Northern Territory she's living in at the minute due to the current Covid-19 restrictions, and her heartbreak and isolation added another layer of suffering to what was already such an impossible time. Our Dad has been having radiation treatment for the last seven weeks and this had to continue daily. More layers of heartbreak. My beautiful niece, Gary's daughter, was able to get home from Melbourne immediately but then had to spend 14 days quarantining with none of us allowed in her house. We could talk to her while she stood in the doorway and we stood/sat two metres away on the porch. More layers of heartbreak. The layers just kept piling on and on and yet somehow... the world kept turning. I couldn't, and still can't understand how life was just continuing while our world had been completely blown apart. I realise that sounds selfish, and it's certainly something I couldn't understand or had even thought about before experiencing something like this. The shift feels so palpable on a global scale to me. It's impossible to fathom that not everybody was feeling it. It makes no rational sense to think that, but that's one of the things that have been running through my mind. Seeing people go about their daily lives, seeing posts on Facebook and Instagram and people making jokes and getting on with things - but our lives stopped. Irreparably torn.
I don't understand how it's possible that I'm never going to see him again. His name will never pop up on my phone again. He's never going to play with Isaac again. Far out, he loved Isaac so much. Gary and I had a volatile relationship, like lots of brothers and sisters I guess, but at its core was love, forgiveness and an unspoken agreement that although we were different in so many ways, it didn't matter, because we had each other's backs no matter what. He drove me so crazy a lot of the time, but far out, what I wouldn't give for one more argument with him. One more chance to deal with him in a bad mood, where he would explode with anger - I don't care.
I've been sharing a lot on social media how much he meant to me, trying to shout from the rooftops about the kind of man he was and how much I am going to miss him. My thoughts are consumed with memories and I can feel my brain wrestling with the knowledge that he's gone. It doesn't feel real. Maybe I will always be waiting for him to drive into my driveway, or call me because he's bored, or torture me at a family function by doing his best to stir Isaac up as much as physically possible. Always waiting. Internally begging to see him again.
I feel like my sharing is too much and that people don't want to see or read or hear about things like grief. It's not a comfortable topic, it can come across as attention seeking (I do not want attention, I want Gary), and there comes a time when I feel it's kind of like "get over it already". I don't seem to be able to process this at all. The only thing that helps is talking about him, and even that doesn't really "help" but it feels like it's the only way I can keep him here, keep him with me. I want to keep reminding people that it's not over for us. That it will never be "over". Our lives are altered in a way I wouldn't wish upon anyone. The searing, initial pain of learning he was gone is something I could never describe. The complete sense of hopelessness, of disbelief, of pure heartbreak - watching my Mum collapse to the ground, seeing my Dad sob, watching my other brother walk away to make the most horrible phone calls, holding my sister-in-law as she made the phone call to my niece - it's not the way that life is meant to be. These things happen every day, I get that, and I have always felt so much empathy towards people who have suffered in this way, but May 4th, 2020, was our turn. And it is hell.
Gaz seemed invincible, to all of us. He had quite a few "near misses" in his adventurous, mischief-filled life and it seemed like the only thing that would ever be a risk to him, was old age. The shock of it all feels so raw, like every morning is a brand new ache, but it's not new, it's now our "normal". He's not here. And it hurts.
His funeral was... horrible, obviously - the Covid-19 issues making everything so much worse. Having said that, the respect that people had for Gary was so incredibly evident, not to mention how much he was loved. A convoy of trucks, cars and motorbikes followed him from the funeral home to the cemetery. There were people lining the streets across four different suburbs. 30 of us were allowed at the graveside, but people crowded outside the cemetery fence. The live-streamed part of the service had the biggest amount of devices connect to it since the pandemic started (for the funeral home we dealt with). Far out, he was loved. He was so very, very loved, and always will be.
I know it's going to take time to come to terms with any of this. It will always hurt, we will always miss him more than words can explain. He would never want us to be miserable, and I know we will be able to feel happiness again, even though our lives will be forever tinged with sorrow. He will be with us forever, in our hearts and our memories which sounds super lame, but there isn't really another way to describe it.
I've been finding comfort in music, both playing the piano and also listening to Gary's favourite bands/songs, and I feel like it would be fitting to share the lyrics from one of the songs we played at his funeral - it's almost as if I can hear him saying the words to us. He is with us. He is part of us. He will never be forgotten.
I love you big brother, more than you could ever know. Thank you for everything you taught me and thank you for loving me so unconditionally. Isaac will never forget his Uncle Gaz, we look for the brightest star in the sky every night. You are with us all, today and every day. Rest peacefully. xo.
Brighter Side of Grey - Five Finger Death Punch
I'm writing this in case I'm gone tomorrow
I'm writing this in case I've moved along
There's something that I hope you'll remember
That life is not a game, it's a song
So take the best parts of me
Locked away without the keys
And know that I'm forever by your side
When the lights go down
Know that I am never far away
When the sun burns out
I'll be waiting on the brighter side of grey
If you're reading this, I know you're feeling sorrow
If you're hearing this, I know you're probably scared
Just know that all the things you want are borrowed
And all you get to keep is all you've shared
So wipe away the tears for me
Know that we've made history
Remember no one ever really dies
When the lights go down
Know that I am never far away
When the sun burns out
I'll be waiting on the brighter side of grey
When the lights go down
Know that I am never far away
When the sun burns out
I'll be waiting on the brighter side of grey
source: https://www.lyricsondemand.com/f/fivefingerdeathpunchlyrics/brightersideofgreylyrics.html
I'm writing this in case I've moved along
There's something that I hope you'll remember
That life is not a game, it's a song
So take the best parts of me
Locked away without the keys
And know that I'm forever by your side
When the lights go down
Know that I am never far away
When the sun burns out
I'll be waiting on the brighter side of grey
If you're reading this, I know you're feeling sorrow
If you're hearing this, I know you're probably scared
Just know that all the things you want are borrowed
And all you get to keep is all you've shared
So wipe away the tears for me
Know that we've made history
Remember no one ever really dies
When the lights go down
Know that I am never far away
When the sun burns out
I'll be waiting on the brighter side of grey
When the lights go down
Know that I am never far away
When the sun burns out
I'll be waiting on the brighter side of grey
source: https://www.lyricsondemand.com/f/fivefingerdeathpunchlyrics/brightersideofgreylyrics.html
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