If you're lucky enough to be in the mountains, you are lucky enough.

When something bad happens, you have three choices: let it define you, let it destroy you, or let it strengthen you.

Friday, January 20, 2006

Nothing about running

So you can simply skip it. Besides I will post a big bang tomorrow about my experience as a sweep. But I promised to myself this is the place where I share my thoughts with myself. And your responses are deeply appreciated, but today I feel the need to just put some things on paper. Like some kind of closure…as if there is ever going to be a closure on this matter.
I was driving today, dragging my kids to help me volunteer. My teen is a typical porcupine, not talking much and not expressing any happiness in spending time away from his bed and TV/couch combo. But he still respects me enough to comply. I look at him and I tell him I love him…and he shrugs his shoulders…and the pain overwhelms me. Today is 1 year 4 days as my nephew was killed in a car accident. 1 year as we laid him to rest. He was 24. There could be much said about relative’s death, but he is no simple relative. Being only 10 years younger, he was my brother. Being the whole 10 years younger, he was like my first-born child. My sister had one last year to finish her master, and Michael came to live with us since he was 3 weeks old. I changed his diapers (cloth, mind you), I washed it and ironed it, I took him for walks in a stroller (and turned him a few times escaping bad road judgment), I dropped him on the floor, I played with him, fed him, woke up at night, cleaned his poop, saw his first steps and heard his first words…A year later he went back to his parents, but the bond was made. My sister is my soul mate, she was same to me when I was growing up. My mother, my mentor, my best friend…that doesn’t say much good about our parents, but such is life, and we are not too close to parents, nor did we ever felt loved. Been as close as we are, she and I visited numerous times, and when her marriage came to an end, she came to live with us. Michael was 11, my older son was 1. Same 10 years…He (Michael) took it rough, the divorce and all those changes. He shut down. For my sister he was the only reason to live…but every time she tried to kiss him or tell him how much she loved him, he’d only shrug his shoulders and turn his head away…
I don’t know how she survived that horrific telephone call, because I still remember how I didn’t…scream, hysteria, stupor…flight to Moscow…tears, tears, tears…funeral. There are two moments I do remember from that trip. How she stood there, at his coffin, and said: now I can kiss you all I want and you wouldn’t turn your head…too bad it won’t last long. And another, as his body was lowered, there was no scream, no tears, just an outstretched arm…as if she could stop it, just hold on to it for a second longer…

I am really sorry, folks. It just hurts. So much. I was hoping if I put it in writing, I’d be able to read it over and think straight about it. I don’t know. I envy all of those who believe in life beyond life. I have to reserve to memory and tears.

Well, that’s it. I got it out. Our kids, our growing pain…our only love.

I’ll be back…life goes on, as weird as it sometimes seems.

4 comments:

Unknown said...

Olga,

I hope you find some kind of peace from writing about this tragic loss. I am truly sorry that this ever happened and I am not sure that I have ever said that to you. Take care of your family and of yourself.

Rob

Anonymous said...

I'm so sorry for your loss. No one can fully comprehend the depth of your pain until they encounter a similar experience. So I offer a few thoughts with hope that they will help and not hurt.

Through the years I've walked with many people through the loss of loved ones. I know it is one of the most difficult journeys we make in this life.

One year seems like an eternity when you are grieving the passing of someone who is precious to you. But in the scheme of things, one year is a really short time to work through the grief.

The fact that you are able to tell your nephew's story indicates that you are making the journey in the same way that you run an ultra race - one step at a time. There will be some rough places along the way when you question whether you can make it. You haven't completed the journey through your grief yet but you are not the kind of person who gives up before the finishline.

I don't know that we can ever completely get over such an experience. Just as each race changes you to some degree your life will always be changed by your loss. The wound eventually heals but we live with the scar.

Your post is one of the most beautiful expressions of love I have read in a long time. There are some things in life that are more important than running and I appreciate so much your taking the time to share the story of a nephew who was more than a nephew. I'm going to hold my daughters a little closer tonight as a result.

I suppose one of the reasons why I personally choose to believe in life after death is because there are so many things in this life that are unresolved and which don't make sense if this is all there is.

I figure we can either walk through an experience like this with God or without him. Given the options, I know which I choose.

You will be in my prayers.

Olga said...

Thank you. Thank you for beautiful words and heartfelt thoughts...whether online or offline. As Lady Lurker mentioned a quote by Elizabeth Stone "Making the decision to have a child - it's momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.". As Mental Runner reminded - it's not all about running. Lets hold those dear to our hearts a little closer...

onepinkfuzzy said...

It took me awhile to respond to this post, because it touched me so deeply. I wanted to say thank you for sharing...and I think it's encouraging that you can start to write about it, to help heal.