Every time I listen to Dave Matthews I think about my Sam.
He passed away a little over 2 years ago. I learned a lot about life through his passing. After I accepted it. Sam was the younger brother of two boys. I was pregnant with my second son. The similarities were too much for me to accept. Wrapping my head around a mama burying her second son...nope, not accepting it.
Battling depression my entire life, I have a pretty good idea of the extent of pain I can handle. Since I was pregnant and unable to substance my way out of the dark reality of his passing, I literally convinced myself that he was still alive and I would see him again.
Convincing myself he was still alive didn't do me any favors. Whenever I would be reminded of him I would break down. The pain was so real and new each time. Since I hadn't truly grieved him I was unable to move past his passing to the good memories. Time does heal wounds, but not if you repress reality. I was able to fully grieve his loss a year later.
I used to see Sam all the time during my single party days but we grew apart. I got married and started my fam. I changed and he stayed Sam. He will always be Sam. The hilarious, sincere and flakey gentle love bug that always smelled so good.
About a year after Sam passed, I was hugging my best male friend (and Sam's best friend) good bye and told him that he smelt like himself and to never change that smell. He gave me "the look". That look you share with someone when you know that he knows what you know. He told me that when Sam passed he kept his cologne. And he smells it every once in a while to remember him. This conversation happened about a week before I accepted Sam's passing. It helped tremendously to know that Sam's closest person, in the whole world, was able to accept it and move forward to the good memories.
I think I'm at the point where I could smell Sam again.
He passed away a little over 2 years ago. I learned a lot about life through his passing. After I accepted it. Sam was the younger brother of two boys. I was pregnant with my second son. The similarities were too much for me to accept. Wrapping my head around a mama burying her second son...nope, not accepting it.
Battling depression my entire life, I have a pretty good idea of the extent of pain I can handle. Since I was pregnant and unable to substance my way out of the dark reality of his passing, I literally convinced myself that he was still alive and I would see him again.
Convincing myself he was still alive didn't do me any favors. Whenever I would be reminded of him I would break down. The pain was so real and new each time. Since I hadn't truly grieved him I was unable to move past his passing to the good memories. Time does heal wounds, but not if you repress reality. I was able to fully grieve his loss a year later.
I used to see Sam all the time during my single party days but we grew apart. I got married and started my fam. I changed and he stayed Sam. He will always be Sam. The hilarious, sincere and flakey gentle love bug that always smelled so good.
About a year after Sam passed, I was hugging my best male friend (and Sam's best friend) good bye and told him that he smelt like himself and to never change that smell. He gave me "the look". That look you share with someone when you know that he knows what you know. He told me that when Sam passed he kept his cologne. And he smells it every once in a while to remember him. This conversation happened about a week before I accepted Sam's passing. It helped tremendously to know that Sam's closest person, in the whole world, was able to accept it and move forward to the good memories.
I think I'm at the point where I could smell Sam again.
Oh my, this made me tear up a little. I think we all have different self protection and coping mechanisms that kick in when we need them. I love that Sam's best friend kept his cologne and that you got to the point where you were ready to smell it again. Healing takes it's own time and is different for everyone.
ReplyDeleteVery wise words, Anna! Thank you for sharing.
DeleteI remember after I lost my grandparents I couldn't look at their picture for about a year. It was like a stab in my heart. I also remember the day I was finally able to see their picture again. It was so bitter/sweet.
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing, Karen, and I'm sorry for your loss. Saw a pic of Sam today from our wedding album and bitter/sweet is a perfect description. I published this post in October but added a new label and it randomly republished.
DeleteMarcia, you write about your loss of Sam with such clarity that I feel it with you. I understand how smells bring back a person's memory; I have a dress that was among the last ones my grandmother bought. For the longest time I put my nose next to the cloth and remembered her. Eventually, the scent disappeared but it coincided with the lessening of my grief....almost like magic.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your kind words. I am glad your grandmother's scent lingered on the fabric as long as your grief did. My grandmother knit an outfit for my cabbage patch doll that reminds me of her. I think it is so important for us to have something tangible to look at and touch when we need that bit of comfort. Thanks again for your comment. I am honored you stopped by and connected because I love your site and the guidance it provides.
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