Saying goodbye. The sound of silence feels better.

This is the end of this blog. I feel that I have said everything I ever want to say, at least for a very long time. The last thing I wrote to my family got one member mad at me and I will never know if I was forgiven because he died less than a month after receiving the letter. I tried calling, I tried to enlist another member of my family to pass the word along that I was sorry he was upset. I never got to talk to him again.
I'm very opinionated. I'm honest and not afraid to talk about my disorders as I have in the past. It was mostly started as a day by day account of my transitioning from pharmacutical medication to vitamins, minerals and amino acids to treat bi-polar disorder. My first blogs were about mental illness and the fight with which I deal, day in and day out. My brother had depression as well. I feel I laid one too many burdens upon him, brought back a conversation that only he, I and God were privy to. I will never know how badly this affected him. I feel the weight upon my heart every day. I'm working with my psychologist from Iowa City on a weekly basis by phone to work through the guilt I feel.
It was not suicide, but it was tragic anyway. I always considered him a friend above being my brother. We could always talk, somehow we would get through disagreements, sometimes major ones, but we knew we loved each other and had each survived our young lives and lived to adulthood. We didn't pass down the "techniques" that were used on us in our formative years. All four of us "kids" made it out and became productive successful members of society. I ended up on disability due to mental illness and he ended up on disability due to a stroke. This was added on to his depression and didn't make it any easier to cope with.
When I was suicidal the first call I made was to him because I knew he would understand what I was feeling like no one else in my family could. I loved his laugh, he was a good father and husband a very supportive dad and grandpa. He loved those little ones. they come into the house and ask for Papa and he is not there.
It is still not real to me. I sent sympathy cards to his family probably saying all the wrong things. Short is best when it comes to sympathy cards. Short is better.
I'm working on forgiving myself for causing him extra pain at the end of his life. And that we never got to work this one out. I blame myself.
In psychology patients are taught to create a "safe place" where you can go and be alone and no one can be there unless you want them there. My safe place was always walking beside the still water with Christ, then being able to sit at his feet and rest my head on his lap and let him smooth his hand over my hair. That is healthy. Two days ago an new "safe place" entered my mind. I felt I had opened my mouth, used my pen, my keyboard one too many times and all I wanted was to be in a dumpster, alone with the lid down where I couldn't hurt anyone anymore with my words. If anybody reads this which is highly unlikely, one of them may be my friend Lynne. I can hear her soothing my mind and telling me that what I did was just honest and that I wanted my family back. Well, I am down to two siblings and no parents. From a family of six to a family of three and I'm not even 50 yet. It makes you grow up finally to know how individually precious each person is. And how empty your life can be when that one person is gone. I accepted my parents' deaths. But it is hard to accept my brother's. It couldn't happen any other way, I'm nearly 100% sure, but it is still not real to me. I think about it and then it blows my mind. I didn't get to say goodbye.
So I'm saying goodbye here. I have been very vast and liberal with my words, spreading them out there where not one part of my life was sacred. I thought I helped some people. Some said so. I think it was cathartic for me to write. Well, I'll be doing my writing in my journals from this point on and for the benefit of my heart, soul, and mind. I was in a "different place" when I wrote that last letter to my brother, to my family. And now I'm in a new place. A silent one. I will not be showing up on facebook quite so regularly with posts. I'll still keep an eye out and see what people are doing and comment when I feel so inclined. I just feel the need to keep my lips together and my thoughts to myself.
I probably won't be writing any more letters at all anymore except in gratitude for people who have helped me over every bad time I have been through. Those who have made my life worth it and who have convinced me that I need to be here.
So, anyway, Even though I didn't get to say goodbye to my brother, I'm saying goodbye to you.
If I could ask one more request, could you continue to pray for my family and the Canaga family in general. There is a huge heaviness we are standing under at this time. Take care. And thanks for supporting me in this blog when you had the chance to read it.