I have learned to live with loss; I suppose we all do at some point in our lives. Today marks six years since my brother Chris passed away.
Loss defines.
I remarked to friends and family in the days after he was gone that everything mattered more. Each choice, each action, each in-action: each would be measured against a more perfect ideal and each would require meaning. After six years I have realized this pursuit is fruitless – I cannot find meaning and purpose where there is not any. I cannot make reason from unreasonable circumstances. I can not make possible the impossible. What his loss has taught me, though, is that I can learn to love and accept and prioritize.
I have made my peace, imperfect as it is, with his loss. I have found meaning in those empty and vagabond days after he left. I learned that I can love for an eternity without condition or possession: that I can love an idea, a memory.
I vowed to teach my children about their Uncle – their Uncle Chris. I talk to my daughter Grace about him each night and she now says his name: Unka Kiss. For now, this is enough.
I miss our shared history. I miss my sounding board. I miss my brother.
With all that I miss, I still have love.