To anyone who doesn't know me, that day I looked like a carefree and fancy free type of girl; savoring a good book, getting in a little exercise, and soaking up the August rays.
However, as I pulled my arms through the water, and kicked my feet, visions and flashbacks interrupted the silence of my underwater peace. Ten months later, these upsetting moments from my life are still fighting to have a prominent place in my mind. This happens to me often, at the most inopportune times. I find myself fighting back traumatizing memories when I am trying to sleep, reading a book, driving, running, even in the middle of teaching a lesson I found myself having to suppress memories so that I could focus on a math problem. I've been told that this is the trauma, the PTSD of losing my little brother in such a frightening way, and it could even be a little bit of the fear from my fertility struggles.
One moment that haunts me the most is Matt's memorial service. There is something about my entire family, minus a key member, so exposed and vulnerable to every person we have ever known that is very hard for me. I flash back to singing a beautiful praise song, sobbing, as my dad and Jeremiah wrapped their arms around my mom, sister, and I and we held each other. I recall leaving the service and glancing up to see Matt's best friends in the front row to our left, one of them holding his basketball jersey. They all looked so grown-up, older versions of their carefree and childhood selves, yet so broken in that moment. While I could not look around that day, I remember noticing dear family friends, who lost their own brother and son sitting right behind us. It felt like they were literally holding us up. I cannot shake the visions from this day.
I often flash back to the Sunday morning when my father rang our doorbell, under that false pretense that he wanted to join us for church. He waited so patiently for me to finish my breakfast, as he knew I would need it to sustain me through the day. I remember so vividly, his reaching across English muffins and orange juice to take my hand, and tell me that my younger brother had gone to be with the Lord.
I flash back to every moment that scared me in my last months with Matt. I envision things that I did not see, but that I know happened.
I try to block out the long, holiday weekend when I knew that the early days of pregnancy were not supposed to feel the way that I was feeling. I knew something was wrong, and there was no one to help me, no answers to give, as only hours would bring us the HCG numbers, and peace that I so desired. I was so scared that weekend, while the rest of the world was grilling hamburgers, drinking beers in their backyard, and excitedly anticipating the upcoming summer months.
All of these moments from my life, these visions, these memories that are so unhealthy will fade with time, and in their place, will be flashbacks of beauty. It takes mental energy to get to those places right now, but I also know eventually they will begin to come more naturally.
When my mind goes to the dark place, I work to fill it with moments of beauty. I think of Matt's sparkling blue eyes, or his big arms wrapping me in a warm hug. I hear him calling me "sis". I think of how his face lit up when he was really laughing. I picture him out in the driveway shooting free throws. I remember him sleeping on the family room floor, in front of the TV, with his dogs curled up next to him. I try to fill my heart with hope, for the baby that Jeremiah and I will someday hold and love.
Here is the truth about trauma...or PTSD, or grief, or pain, or sadness...
It is real, and it hurts, but we are not meant to live in fear.
Trauma can shape us, but we cannot let it define us.
These last ten months will make me a stronger version of my former self. I will NOT forever be a girl who is traumatized, or grieving. I refuse.
Matt would be furious.
God would be hurt.
Psalm 91:4 says, "He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart."
When all else fails, and the pain and trauma are too much for me to bear, I will turn to these words. I know them to be true, because the only way that my family has endured each day since October 18th, is by resting under the protection and comfort of God's wing.
Trauma can make you want to crawl under a blanket and never come out. It can cause you to eat too much, or drink in excess, or experience insomnia. Trauma causes some people to experience physical aches and pains, or to not be able to eat at all. Something I have experienced in trauma is extreme indecisiveness; I question everything I once knew, all of my actions, my words, my self, even day-to-day activities and choices. I am unsure of the basics of life, because my foundation has been rocked.
This I am NOT unsure of; God gave me a family that was so beautiful, and so full of love that the memories of joy will NEVER fade. Those visions, flashbacks, and memories will remain forever strong. The good ones will stick.
This I am NOT unsure of; Matt wants me to keep moving forward with my life, never forgetting him, but also not forsaking joy.
This I am NOT unsure of; I will continue to rest under God's wing, when I need refuge from the trauma, and until the fear has passed.
Colleen, Jer, me, and Matt...one year ago this week-
our last family vacation, and while it was not perfect, we were together, and there were moments of beauty and joy.
