Turning 34

When I started this blog I started it because when Markus died there really wasn't much on grief when someone died from a drug over dose. Everything I found out there was more about loss to cancer or car accidents. It was loss from an acceptable death. It wasn't about all the emotions you go through with a addict in your life and all the hurt and misery that comes with it when you lose some one to this particular disease. It is taboo. It is seen as an addict made this choice and of course this is what they tell you is in the end result... duh. I wanted to be totally honest no matter irrational the thought was. I think I have stay true that. Of course I have not been able to right every though down here. I am not by a computer and I am not always able to put into words the frustration even today I go through with Markus gone and my ability to accept it.

I turned 34 on October 5. Markus died when he was 34. My big brother. I am about to outlive him. I don't know if anyone could truly understand how this is. I was talking to my best friend about this and she lost her Dad when she was young. He was 27 when he died. The relationship she was in was tough around the time her ex turned 27. She thought that history would of course repeat itself and that his recklessness would lead her to relive her Mothers life and her children fatherless. It was a tough thought to beat and once her ex turned 28 she felt better and could breathe. I was very happy to hear that this was not a uncommon thought. So on my birthday was alone during the day. I had my moment to cry and to reminiscent about Markus. I took my time. Then I went for a pedicure. I don't think I have heard anyone talk about this part of grief. About passing the age of a older sibling. I guess I am writing it to say. It is rational to think about it. It is a tough idea. Markus will be forever 34 in my mind. I will turn 35 and I will keep going. Maybe Bob Dylan was right in writing "forever young". When you die young you are immortalize as young.

Anyways Markus, I love you.

Do you know what its like?

I have this question come into to my head a lot. When I talk to Markus(in my head). I may never get a response but I still talk to him. I guess it is one way of to coping with it all. I think "do you know what its like to miss you?", "do you know what its like to see Mom cry all the time?", "do you know what its like to say your name and everyone becomes silent because they are afraid I may cry?", "do you know what its like to know your gone and have my heart sink to my feet in that moment of awareness?".

Tim and I have been together since we were 16 years old. We had a few years apart but basically have been together that long. He is my husband. I am his wife. We just never made it "official". So this November we are. We are getting married November 15 in Mexico. I am making a honest man out of Tim. I keep thinking "do you know what its like.... to not get married because I had no idea how to handle and where to put Markus alive in my wedding....but now he is gone I am getting married in his birth month to make it a little easier for everyone.". I really hope that I can do this. I started doing all this for my Mom. To see my Mom with a bit of a smile on her face. To give her a wedding and some joy.... now I wonder can I do it too? I really miss my brother. I have another brother and I am so happy he is coming to my wedding. We just aren't close. He pushes me away. He pushes everyone away, but I feel like he pushes me away the most. He really just doesn't like me.

Anyways Markus, I love you.

The Gamble

This song Markus's fiance wrote. It was about all the men that failed in her life. There is a verse about Markus. It is such a beautiful song. I am really proud of her.

Peters Drive In

I took Liam to Peters drive in. I was taking him for a ice cream. Before I could go there I had to get money from the bank because they only take cash. My bank was on one side of the street and Peters drive in is on the other side. Its a major road way so I pulled behind 16th to find the road that will let me access Peters Drive in. When I got to the residential road I saw my first elementary school. I looked at it and thought is that it? Is that really my first school? It looked so small. I never quite knew where it was but had a idea it was near there. I went to kindergarten and grade one there. At the time we lived in low income housing and Markus had to get me on public transit to get me to school. I had these huge flashes of memories of my big brother taking me to school and making sure I got there on the city bus. I really started to miss him. My big protector. One glimpse of my school and I remembered how much Markus tried to take care of me. He was in Grade 4 and 5 when we went to that school. I can't imagine my own kids that young on the public transit by themselves. It was what my parents had to do. We only had one car and the school was far. My Dad had to work and he needed the only car we had.

I wanted to stop and park in the parking lot and look at the school. It looked different. I know they had changed the name of the school and it was something different now but I just wanted to sit there and remember my brother. My hero. How much I really looked up to him. My brother and my Dad were the two people in my life I felt safe with. I could be anywhere and as long as either one was there I felt completely protected. I had Liam in the car and made a note of where it was so I can go there again and sit and get lost in my memories. I would be safe to cry there by myself.

I got Liam to Peters Drive in and another memory came up. I was about four and my Dad went to Peters Drive to get my Mom a banana split. I was so small and could barely look up into the window and a old man was looking down at me smiling. He asked me what my favourite Sundae was and I told him Strawberry. He handed me a Strawberry Sundae and I ate it with such great delight. I later learned that was the man who owned Peters Drive in. We never had a lot of money so the fact he gave me a ice cream was such a treat. There I was with my own son buying him a memory of Peters Drive in. Even with all the grief and the parts of me that is moving on I know I will always miss Markus. I am glad that the good memories are coming. The ones when I looked up to him. Not just the ones of the disease of his addiction. Its been almost three years and learning how my life will be without my brother has been difficult and challenging I can see it has started to become less heavy.

I was thinking today about my dream with the river and the rocks. Filling my pockets with cold stones in a very fast flowing river. How much it bothered me that I thought I was trying to kill myself. I think I really get it now. The rocks was all the heavy emotions I was trying to reconcile. All the anger. All the resentment. All of the disappointment. I was facing a crisis (the river) and I was loading all of these emotions and walking straight into it. I think I have unloaded a few of the rocks now. I feel a little lighter. Even though I hated my brothers addiction I really truly loved him. Sometimes the lines can be so blurry. His addiction started before he ever took a drug. I really get that now. I really wish I could have a big Markus hug now and to see his smile. I think he would be happy that I forgive him. That I have started to separate realistically the two things.

Anyways Markus, I love you

I Broke My Wrist

I broke my wrist 6 weeks ago. A part of me was reliving my youth when I use to go to punk shows and mosh. Unfortunately for me when I was 16 I wasn't nearly as strong as I am now and pushing one of my good old friends into the mosh pit resulted in me breaking my wrist in two places. Of course alcohol was involved. I went to see this band called Dayglo Abortions. They were a real blast from my past. I was having such a good time. I had good friends with me. It was my friend Katharine's birthday. (She is such a awesome person and lately kind of a inspiration for me) I felt like I did when I was 16. The only difference I was legal to drink and we were at a bar. I saw so many people that I once knew at the old punks shows I use to go too. All of them 15 years older. The attitude was the same. One of my friends brought a friend with her that wasn't a part of the scene we were in the 90's. He was moshing. I was blown away. This isn't your normal lame ass big concert kind of mosh pit. This is your mohawk, steel boats, kicked in the face type of mosh pit. The kind I loved when I was 16. Anyways I loved the analysis that Chris (who was never a punk) said about mosh pits. He said " I can really understand why this is so much fun for people. You get pushed and you finally can push back". How true is that. I know for most people to see a mosh pit of that kind they would think we are all idiots. ( I am kind of a idiot as I broke my wrist) But we can push back and if you fall everyone around the pit picks you up. There is a huge adrenaline rush that comes with being elbowed in the face listening to punk music blasting at you. Going in a circle elbows up and marching ready to push and push back. I loved doing this in my youth when I was so angry and so insecure. Yes we marched elbows up and we wanted to push and get hurt to the music but we also didn't want to get seriously hurt. No one does that's why there is someone always there to pick you up. I have fallen many times and been picked up by many strangers.

I have my times when I feel like a patched up human being. That no one would like to know this insecure idiot. If people only knew how damaged I am. The truth is I wasn't alone in the mosh pit. I wasn't the only one that was over 30 in that mosh pit. I guess even though I lost my brother and I went through a very hard anxiety disorder, there was other people there that have stuff too. We can put on masks. We can breath and waste our days away. Counting the times the times that we had to learn how to cope with feeling we never imagined we would have to endure. Who are we truly fooling? Ourselves? I think of Markus everyday. Sometimes that thought makes me so sad and sometimes that thought isn't so bad. Sometimes I remember how he has influenced my life. The way he protected me through out my life. I loved him and I still do.

I have been off work for the past 6 weeks. That gives me a lot of time on my hands. When I have been looking in the mirror I can see Markus's eyes in my eyes. We do not look the same but somewhere in my eyes is his. My eyes are smaller and darker but I can see it. I guess it has given me a sense of calm. We were siblings. We are siblings. I still want to make him proud of me. He will always be a part of me. In blood and in my spirit.

Anyways Markus, I love you.

Its 1:30am

Its 1:30am and I am trying to sleep. Instead I just lied in my bed until I finally just started to cry. I feel embarrassed and stupid. At work tonight someone asked me to grab oxygen. I was holding a saline bag in my hand and they said "now". I panicked. I walked quickly over to the sink drop the saline bag and walk quickly to get oxygen. This is where another nurse comes jogging past me and told me "when someone asks for oxygen they mean run don't walk".

I felt like such a big fucking waste of a human being. Why did my brain not click and understand that simple request of urgency? It use to. I had to finish my shift trying so hard not to cry. I couldn't look at anyone and I could tell one patient wanted to ask me what was wrong. I am so glad he didn't because I would have broken done then and there. I am falling apart even writing this. I panicked then I felt so bad about panicking that I started to have a anxiety attack. I couldn't look at anyone and I couldn't talk to anyone. I was hiding the fact that I was having an anxiety attack. I didn't want anyone to know. I am sure people thought I was pissed off. I wasn't, I was ashamed and then I was in a anxiety attack. I haven't taken Xanax in months upon months but I just took two now. Maybe then I could just let this go and accept it as a learning experience and go to sleep.

Anxiety is only my friend if I actually need to fight or flight. Not I when I stand there trying to figure out what is going on.

Anyways Markus, I love you.

The Big White Elephant

Markus was a artist as well and a Muay Thai boxer. He went to art college and when he applied his portfolio was in the top 5 out of 5,000 submissions. I also do art but I have nothing in talent compared to his. I have recently started doing art again. Before I had my children I did plan on being a hobo to travel and draw. I wanted to see beauty in any form and I was not born a trust fund kid so I was okay with the idea of living out of a back pack and traveling. I was going to draw and send my sketch books home through the mail. Instead I had my first son. I was 20.

In our family I was the one who people would have assumed would have the drug problem. I was impulsive and rarely accepted my consequences. I did hitch hike and suffered from some serious depression for a great amount of time. Markus was my big brother who would talk to me about my behavior. My parents were frustrated with me and pretty much gave up on discipline by the time I was 16. I was the typical teen girl running wild with a little more guts (or stupidity) I guess. That all came to a stop when I had my first son Jacob. It was new and strange to be a Mom and not to act on all my impulses. It really made me sit and think to put value on my life and I threw myself at being a good parent.

It was about that time that I really noticed Markus downward spiral. He took in my travels and did it himself. He went to Woodstock 99 were he lost his ID and wallet and lived in New York for 8 months doing odd and end jobs and finally got his ID and enough money to come home. We are Canadian so he wasn't able to cross the border until that was in place. He told me about being robbed. He told me about cleaning up the gigantic mess after Woodstock. He built bird cages for Gypsies and never got paid for it. He also saw Willy Nelson from front row. (We were never Willie Nelson fans but he really is a legend and something to be in awe of to see in person)He had so much fun. When he came home he hitch hiked another time and decided to live in Vancouver. September 11 happened and the only person I called that day as I stared and cried while watching tv was Markus. We talked for a few hours and watched in horror of what we were seeing. Markus was just there a year before. All this time he was falling deeper into addiction. At first it was so silent I didn't know how bad it was. Part of the traveling I know personally is about finding your identity. Allowing the good and the bad to form you into a person. Part of it is also escaping a part of you you don't like. Trying to reshape it into a person you will be proud of.

I was diagnosed with ADHD when I was 13. My Mom would not hear of it as there was so much bad press about the over diagnosis and over medication on the news. I was diagnosed 2 more times and still nothing became of it. Two weeks before Markus died I finally went as a adult to get the diagnosis again and get medication. I knew people didn't think how I thought and even though I accept we are all individuals with different personalities some of the effects of this disorder was impeding on my life. When the medication kicked in I was finally level enough to start to get my own life organized. The impulsiveness was leveling out to a reasonable stage and I cleaned my home. In 3 days I had organized every drawer, corner and room in my home. I took out 9 bags or trash. My Mom came to babysit my children and saw my home. She joked that she thought she walked into the wrong home and had to go back outside and check the house number again. She then told me Markus was back on drugs. That they had kicked him out of there home as he was stealing and that my Dad and Markus got into a scuffle. When she got home that night the police were at her house. She thought maybe Markus came back and my Dad and him got into another fight. Instead she found out Markus was in ICU and had overdosed. I got home after work at 11pm and she called. She didn't want to call me at work.

Markus was tested in grade 4 because his teacher recognized he was extremely bright. He lowest school put his Math abilities at Grade 10 Math but his English studies was at a Grade 12 level. He was gifted. Consequently this gave Markus a huge ego. He did have a huge ego. He was super bright. He was also super lonely. He had trouble making friends. He was a bully. He was larger then most of the other kids and his social skills lacked a bit. He wasn't the fat kid in the class he was just big. I wonder now if this is were things really changed in Markus's self esteem. If being a gifted kid with little social skills created this bully. That the bully deep down inside was only trying to be noticed to be normal. If all of that made the beginnings of a addict.

A lot of kids are bullied not all of them become addicts. Some become Bill Gates others become Charlie Sheen. There is a huge amount of addicts out there. I know all of them start using because there is a part of themselves that they are trying to escape. We all try to escape from ourselves one way or another at some point in our lives. I guess we just find different ways to do it. I never liked the bully or the addict. I like the Markus that wrapped his arms around me in his gigantic hugs. I liked the Markus that would take me out to movies or long drives to Banff. The one who would love my children and tell me he was proud of me. The Markus that would help me with perspective when I would draw and the one that would talk about music with me. The one who saw past all my chaotic teenage antics and would ask me what I saw and how I felt when I saw it. I wish that Markus would have fought off the addict Markus. I always hoped he would come to terms with his short comings and found a wife and had kids, so my kids would have cousins. That we could have family BBQ's and talk about music, movies and art. That is a big part of my grief. I will never be able to have that now. Instead I have this big white elephant at Christmas and get togethers. That is what I have to come to terms with.

Anyways Markus, I love you.

Time getting softer.

I am told in time the ideals of losing someone will get a little "softer" on you. Parts of this is true. I don't cry everyday. I have lost other people in my life. My Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, cousins and friends. For some reason losing my brother is not as simple as losing my other relatives. It really does feel like I lost a big part of my identity.

I find it odd when I meet new people and the ask me how many siblings I have. I still say 2. I have a older brother and a younger brother. I do add my older brother died 2 years ago. This always causes the person to be silent and to change the subject. I think I would do the same thing. Sometimes it stings a bit to be this honest and sometimes its like a rehearsed line. Death is taboo but we all have to face it in our lives. It shouldn't be. I guess acting like everything, everywhere is fantastic and joyous is the only way we should display ourselves in public.

I do have a lovely life. I have great kids who amaze me everyday. I have great friends and family. It just sometimes it feels like I have a poorly sewn patch hidden underneath it all. There are times I want to cry and I hold it in. Its seems like I need a time and a place for it. For this wound to leak out a bit. By the time I am alone the sting feels less and I no longer have the huge urge to just sit down and bawl. I do think this isn't great. That by holding it in I postpone my heart from allowing itself to feel.

I was at walmart earlier this week and the anxiety started to rise like it use too. I started to panic and avoid the people around me and my heart started to race. My mind got really cloudy and I wanted to escape from it all. Its been quite some time since I last had a panic attack. My therapist had told me that my panic attacks were brought on by Markus's death. That because I was trying to avoid crying around people that I let it build up until my body reacted to it. It really scared me that this started to happen this week. Anxiety attacks are terrible terrible things. You feel so helpless and afraid that its extremely hard to put into words. I thought those days were over for me.

I finally hung a picture that Markus had drawn on my wall at home. I didn't hang it for so long because it did hurt to see his art. It was another reminder that he is gone. His artwork is so beautiful though. It should be displayed. I hung it and held back some tears. I can walk past it and look at it. Maybe that means its getting softer for me.

Anyways Markus, I love you.

My Anxiety is building.

I keep telling myself it is just a day. A number. I live everyday. My anxiety is still growing. I went to work for 4 hours today and I almost had a breakdown on my way to work. I have done so well this year. I thought I was missing him with a understanding on how I feel and react. Thoughts were racing through my head. The radio was talking about The Fighter(the movie). My Mom saw my painting yesterday and comment on how much she liked it and added Markus would of loved that painting. Why is it now that I feel like I am going to break down? Is it because the anniversary is coming up? Is it because everyday I cried the first year he was gone but now I don't cry everyday so I get a serious build up of emotion?

The paper wrote me a email showing me what is going to be displayed for his memoriam. Its looks good but its another thing. I know my husband doesn't get why I am so irritable right now. He keeps asking me to relax. It is so hard to relax when I know I have to face all the emotions that come with this anniversary. Why am I building myself up to explode? Why can't I make it feel like its any other day.

I wish I was like other people that grieve. The ones that lose people so close to them and then return to work after 2 weeks. They go about there lives and maintain there friendships. I really wish I wasn't this emotionally involved person. Why do I have to have the heart that shatters? I wish I was just stronger. I wish I could hold it together. I miss my brother so much. 2 years now. 2 years of trying to understand it and comprehend it all.

C.S Lewis said

"Part of every misery is, so to speak, the misery's shadow or reflection: the fact that you don't merely suffer but have to keep on thinking about the fact that you suffer. I not only live each endless day in grief, but live each day thinking about living each day in grief."
- C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

How true is that? We are told time will heal. We are told all sorts of things. I guess in the end it doesn't matter. This hurts. On so many levels. There is never a real time when it doesn't.

Anyways Markus, I love you.

Almost Two Years

I have been seriously irritable this last month. I have cried and I have snapped at all the people closest to me. I couldn't understand why I was I was doing this. Then I remember, Markus. He is on my brain. He sneaks in and I realize I am mad he is dead. Everything about Markus dying makes me so bloody pissed off and I just want to smash things.

The last two years I worried so much about how people were thinking about what I was feeling and how I was doing that I started pushing everyone away. It was easier to just let myself be miserable by myself. I didn't want my friends and family to constantly worry about my mental health and the see the obsessive thoughts of Markus. I think the obsession is normal. At least I hope its normal. I did good most of this year with it but he still pops in. He was real and impacted my life. Of course these memories are not a made up story. Of course things will make me think about him. How can it not?

I watched the fighter last week. The first thing I thought was Markus would love this movie. It was about a boxer with a drug addict brother whose claim to fame was he he was a boxer who almost made it. The drug takes over. It seems in real life the drug actually wins most of the time. Of course in movies it doesn't. It gives people hope. It gives people who have a loved one with a addiction the hope that this will one day just fix itself. A moment in the addicts life and a light bulb will go off and they will be become clean. I am sure Markus had a ton of light bulbs. The drug just ended up blackening them out. I cried watching this movie. I even took a break because my own feelings kept overwhelming the story.

I just finished my memoriam for Markus. I hope it is gets to the paper in time to be published. I don't have a lot of money. I think its important for me to put it in though. I think memoriams are kind of like writing messages to the afterlife. If you put it on paper and mail it someone will read it. It will go somewhere and deep inside I like to think Markus's reads it.

Jacob sang "Let it Be" by the Beatles at Markus's funeral. So I put lyrics from that song on Markus's memoriam.

And when the broken hearted people Living in the world agree, There will be an answer, let it be. For though they may be parted there is Still a chance that they will see There will be an answer, let it be.

I know in grief counseling they talk about how a person never dies. That our memories of them keep them here with us. That is kind of true. I actually wanted to call Markus and tell him that he should see the fighter. A part of my brain thinks that somehow I could do that. I know I can't.
I hope February 28 isn't to brutal. I hope I can keep it together most of the day.

Anyways Markus, I love you.

Valentines Day

Its Valentines Day. Mans worse nightmare and Womens daydream day. I am a romantic. Tim however is not. Today is a day he panics and tries to avoid all together. I have spent many Valentines days crying because Tim ignored it all together. I know its kind of stupid to cry about not getting a card or flowers. I just don't have a romantic husband. I always kind of hope every year he would try. A home made card. I love letter. Something in that nature. I don't get many gestures of love or why I am important to him. It is just not his nature. I always hope Valentines day could be that one day he would go out on a limb and say it. Its not that he doesn't love me. I know he does. He shows it differently though. He works hard. He lets me be me. He supports me.
We are broke right now. That is okay. We are always broke. I had always told myself that I rather be broke and homeless and truly in love then to be rich and miserable. Money helps a relationship in the way that the stress level goes down when all the bills can be paid. So instead of buying a card and chocolates like I usually do for Tim on Valentines day I made him a card. I also made Red Velvet cupcakes from scratch and cream cheese icing from scratch. Our love languages can be so different but you can still express your own.


Tim proposed to me on Valentines Day 9 years ago. It was the most unromantic proposal. I really should make him redo it. He threw a box with a ring at me when I was lying in bed mad because he wasn't going to do anything for me on Valentines day. He said "so you wanna get married or what". I guess it wasn't the dream proposal I had in my head. I pictured a picnic and flying a kite with him going down on one knee. Oh the hopeless romantic in me. I have probably watched too many Disney films as a kid.

Even with a terrible proposal and a unromantic guy Tim makes me smile. When he reads with the kids. When he plays my little ponies with Ava or plays games with Jacob and Liam, my heart jumps and skips a beat. This is the Man I love. I love this guy. I love his smell. I love his eyes. I love his laugh. I love his kind heart. I love his touch. I even love his stubbornness. I love him. So he may not be romantic and I may have many years of disappointing Valentines Days in hope some part of him could possibly get romantic. It doesn't really matter because I am in it for the long run.

Anyways, I love you Tim

Painting

I haven't painted in about 13 years. I use to paint in high school. I was going to go to art college. It was my plan. Then I had Jacob. I knew I couldn't support a child being single and be a artist so I never attended any kind of art classes. Markus was a artist. He had amazing potential to be a great artist. I always kind of felt inadequate in my abilities having him as my big brother. It never stopped me from loving art, painting or drawing. I still did it. I just never really showed anyone my pieces. They looked so juvenile next to Markus's pieces.

My daughter Ava recently got a table top easel for Christmas. I put a canvas on it and started to paint. I was happy with the start and now that I finished it I am not happy with it at all. It looks like something a junior high school student would do. I know not painting for 13 years has really made any kind of skills I did have get rusty. I know I shouldn't beat myself up for not being able to produce the product I was looking for but deep down inside I feel like I am not Markus.

Before Markus died he was painting and drawing again. He was amazing at it. He hadn't done anything for so long and he could just do it. I wish he was alive right now to stand over my shoulder and say "Karra all you have to do is add this or Karra place a little colour here and it will give this effect.". He use to do that. He use to help me when I was painting or drawing before.

I have spent two years missing him. Two years I have been mad about his addiction and my inability to save him. Two years recalling all the things he did wrong and the things I wasn't able to say. I guess I have forgotten about his gifts and his love for me he had as my brother. I look at his artwork and all I want to do is cry. I have seen the work up until now as a reminder he has died. Maybe I should look at it again and see his art. What he has left here for me look at and get inspiration from. Like the song I had played at his funeral says "Blackbird singing in the dead of night take these broken wings and learn to fly, all your life you were only waiting for this moment to arrive" . We all have interests and gifts. Maybe now is my time to actually try again to get back into it and not beat myself up for what I have lost but what I can learn. I miss him either way.

Anyways Markus, I love you.

Time Just Keeps Going

I guess by the lack of posts I have been writing is showing there must be a lot of healing going on. I know people told me in the beginning that with time it will get easier. I never believed them. I honestly thought if people say that then they had no clue how badly my heart was hurting. I know now its true. I have days that I don't think about Markus. Maybe small thoughts because something reminds me of him but it doesn't become a overwhelming amount of remorse. Its more of a delightful memory.
This doesn't mean I don't have days where I am overcome with grief. I do. I guess I have a little bit of a better handle. I still miss him. I still look at my children and they remind me of my own childhood and growing up with siblings. I am coming up to 2 years since Markus died. Its sneaking up pretty fast. I need to make a plan on how to celebrate him.
One of my friends sisters just overdosed. My heart goes out to her because I know the struggle her and her family has ahead of her. I wish I was full of wisdom. Something so amazing to say to ease her pain. I also know there is no amazing cure for it. Just a lot if time and a really good ear to listen.
Anyways Markus I love you.