Grief for a Brother

     I thought I was OK, that his passing would glide past me. He was so much older and not a part of my life. I was wrong, wrong. It sneaked up behind me, unbidden, uninvited, and before I knew what was happening, I was covered in a blanket of grief. I'm trying to sort out the various feelings and align them with things I know, but it all gets jumbled up in my head, and I feel a fatigue deep within me. Sleep, sleep feels so good now, I just want to sleep 12 hours at a time, or at least think and ponder in peace. It's hard to focus on what needs to be done; so I try to just do the next thing and no more. It's hard to see through this fog of sadness(?), regret(?), wistfulness(?), sorrow(?); I'm not even sure what to call it. If only I could name it, I could own it and understand it. Sorrow for the lost chances, the lost years, the wasted anger and confusion. Wistful for the past, for a chance to make things right, or change the course of a life. Regret that that I never reached out to him to see if he wanted to build some kind of relationship; the chance is gone like a vapor. Sadness that permeates.
     I know this grief will leave as mysteriously as it came, the heaviness will pass. We are old friends, grief and I, and we understand each other. I let it stay and work in my heart, without fighting or resisting, and it leaves peacefully, quietly, when it's done. It rearranges things a bit: weeding some old things out and adding new things. So there is no despair on my part, just a quiet determination to see it through, bear with it, but not without with a deep inner sigh in my soul. I didn't ask for this grief: I don't want it, I don't like it. But I do know that once it is gone, I will be different, a little wiser, a little more understanding, a bit older. And then the clouds will pass, the fog will lift, the sun will shine!