Reincarnation

Hi Everyone! Happy Friday!

So I'm going to get a little weird and "new-agey" on you today...back to regularly scheduled programming next week, I promise...

I know this woman who lost her firstborn, a full-term baby, at birth, and then went on to have another healthy baby. We talked one day about reincarnation, about how she, during her second pregnancy, wondered if the baby she lost would come back to her as the new baby. She told me it was something she thought about a lot, and was open to the possibility of it happening. And then she had the new baby. And she knew right away that it wasn't the same soul or whatever you want to call it...that this new baby had no connection to the first.

This is something I've been thinking about, mostly in relation to my brother who died.

Someone claiming psychic abilities told me once years ago that he (my brother) would come back to me as my child, that he would once again take care of me. (Part of why it was so hard to lose my brother was that when he died we were living together and were each other's major support system...it's been awful having that gone from my life.)

So there is the question: Will one of these babies be my brother reincarnated? Or, for that matter, the baby girl we lost last spring? I don't need it to be, and I certainly don't expect it, but I do think it's a possibility. 

And based on what my friend who lost her baby said, I think I'll know...

I feel so weird talking about this...but it's been on my mind, so...

Hope everyone has a lovely weekend. Thanks for spending some time here this week. :)

XOXO

Today Is Luke's Birthday

My brother, who was killed. Six years ago now. He would have been 33 today.

I don't feel like I can write about the reality of how I feel. I feel like I have to hide how I really feel and I hate it. No one wants to be around someone who can't move beyond something like this. The only story anyone wants to hear is the one where you go through hard times and triumph over them, come out the other side stronger and better. But that is just not the truth of what's gone on here, even though I try to pretend that (act as if) it is, every day.

This has totally destroyed the person I was. And I don't know what I'm left with. I get up every day and try, try to love all those in my life (and there are many wonderful people in my life...I get accused of being ungrateful of that fact, but truly I am not), try to be happy.

But the reality is I feel like I lost my life too, have from Day 1. I had a psychologist tell me once my brother and I, because we were so close were "fused," and because of that I have trouble seeing what happened to him as separate from what happened to me. That makes sense to me, makes sense of my strong, strong feelings that my life was taken away as well, feelings that persist to this day. 

I feel so alone. So outside the norm of what grief is supposed to look like. So lost, still. And I have no idea what to do to make it better.

XOXO

An Email to Nowhere

So I've been doing some writing about surfing over the past couple weeks, mostly about the years I surfed up in San Francisco. It's something I've been meaning to write about for years, and it's been fun to do.

Yesterday, I came across some old notes I had for the project, and found some emails from Luke, my brother who died, about how my first surfboard had gotten stolen out of the back of his truck.

I knew I had those emails, so that didn't come as a surprise. But I was really affected by seeing his email address: fedwithpunk@gmailcom. I'd forgotten about that address. It's so him.

And I've been thinking ever since about how much I want to send an email there. What happens to old email addresses when people die? Does someone else get it, like a phone nuber? Or does it just die along with the person?

I know if I sent an email I'd either get a nondeliverable message or no response. But a part of me just kind of holds out hope that somehow he'd get the message and send me something back. Crazy, I know.

I want an email from him so bad. Sucks that it's never going to happen.

And now I'm all teary. Stupid pregnancy hormones...I've been crying at everything lately...

XOXO

FAQ Fridays: A Dream About My Brother

So you had a dream about your brother. Which one?

Luke, the one who died.

Have you dreamed about him before?

No. (Well, I've dreamed about him dead, but that doesn't really count.)

And it's funny, a lot of people have had dreams with him in them, and I've always felt bad because it doesn't happen to me.

My BFF had a dream with Luke in it shortly after he died (they were very close) and said to him in the dream, "Why don't you go visit your sister? You should go visit your sister!" And he said, "Nah, she's too sad."

So I've always kind of felt like when I'm not so sad anymore, I'll dream of him. I had no idea it would take more than 6 years to get to that point, though.

What was the dream like?

He was his teenaged self, with crazy bushy hair, not the age he was when he died (27), when he had his hair pretty much buzz-cut.

He was across a busy city street from me (not sure where), and he saw me and his face lit up with a smile and he waved, and I waved back, and then he was gone.

So you didn't get to talk to him?

No. (My husband's first question when I told him about the dream was, "Did you ask him if he likes the boy name we picked?" [If we have a son, we're planning to name him Luke.] He was disappointed that my brother and I didn't get to have that conversation.)

How do you feel about the dream?

Good. Really good. I personally believe those connections in dreams are very real...as real as if we were talking long-distance on the phone. I really hope I dream of him again, and this time we get to have a conversation. But just seeing him....alive isn't the right word here...present, maybe? That was awesome.

Hope everyone has a lovely weekend. Thanks for spending some time here this week. :)

XOXO

Image Credit: secret maison via Paul et Paula.

FAQ Fridays: What Happened in Santa Barbara?

Santa Barbara from Cowell's Beach, July, 2011.

Those of you who've been following along for a little while may remember my trip to Santa Barbara a few weeks back. I've been meaning to talk more about what went on there, and today's the day.

So, what's the deal with you and Santa Barbara?

I first went there with my brother who died, the first surf trip we took down the California coast. It's so beautiful there...the mountains soaring up on one side, the Pacific on the other. My brother was in college when we did that trip, and it was love at first sight.

"Oh, man," he said. "As soon as I graduate, I'm moving here."

And he did.

How did you end up living there?

I was living in San Francisco, and came to visit my brother and surf all the time. He'd go to Alaska for the summers most years to work; one year when he came back he said to me, "Hey, why don't you move down to Santa Barbara with me? There's nothing keeping you in San Francisco. We'll get a house together. It'll be fun." So that's what we did. 

What was it like living there?

Living with my brother was amazing. We were really best friends, and a lot alike, and we just had so much fun. Surfing constantly. Barbeques with friends in the backyard. And he was in a band, so out to see all his shows. It was pretty idyllic. On the other hand, I was dealing with a pretty serious broken heart (as was my brother). And working too much (I mean really ridiculous hours). So good and bad.

When did your brother die?

A year and a half after I moved down. And it was totally sudden and unexpected. One morning he was saying, "Bye, love you, sis," on his way out the door to work, and by that evening he was dead.

What did you do after that happened?

I stayed in our house. I didn't really know what to do. Our friends took care of me.

What was it like?

It was awful being there after my brother had died. I was so heartbroken and lost. I totally quit surfing. Didn't work for months. I also met my now-husband a few months later, but he was working up in Alaska (had my brother's old job, which is how I met him), so I was still essentially alone.

When did you move away? Why did you move away?

About a year and a half after my brother died, I started to feel like I had to move. I wasn't really getting better, getting over my brother, like you're supposed to start doing...if anything, things were getting worse. And as things got more serious with my now-husband, we were wanting to be together. He had moved to Seattle, and I'd lived there before, and had good friends there, and was so sad in Southern California...everything reminded me of my brother. Moving seemed like the right thing. 

How was it?

Terrible. Leaving the beautiful town and the charming little house my brother and I had shared...it doesn't seem like leaving a place should be so hard, but it was just awful. I felt like I was abandoning my brother. I also felt like my life there had been taken away, never to be given back. I felt like I HAD to leave, like it wasn't a choice, and that's part of what I think made it so difficult.

How was Seattle?

I love Seattle, but moving from sunny Southern California to there in January (rain, clouds, darkness) was NOT a good idea. Plus I was still so upset about my brother...my now-husband and I moved again to Colorado six months later, for a number of reasons, but mostly so I could be around my remaining family, which he thought might help me (and it did).

Had you been back to Santa Barbara before this recent trip? How was it?

Yes, twice...once for my best friend's bridal shower weekend, and once for her wedding. I was the Maid of Honor, and was busy and focused on her, so it wasn't too bad. (There were actually lots of parts of those trips that were really, really lovely.) But it was HARD to go back, mostly I think because this place I absolutely loved felt so definitively off limits...like I may as well have been dead too for all it was possible to ever be there again.

Were you scared about going this summer?

A little. Mostly because I promised my husband that if we went I would be happy and make it a fun trip. Although if I HAD gotten upset it would have been OK...my husband just wanted me going there with a good mindset. But I wasn't sure how realistic it was for me not to end up sad.

So how was it?

You know, a really big shift happened. It was totally different.

What happened?

The first night we were there, we decided to walk down to the Pier for dinner. Most of the restaurants on the pier are mediocre tourist traps, but the Santa Barbara Shellfish Company on the end is so good and a place I used to go all the time. In fact, a few days before my brother died, we tried to go to dinner there, but they had just closed for the evening (they keep really random hours). I always wondered after if we had told them it was the last dinner out we'd ever have together, if they would have let us in. But of course we didn't know...

Anyway, my husband and I started walking, it was a beautiful night, warm and humid and State Street's so cool with its shops and restaurants and eclectic mix of people. My husband and I were holding hands and he said out of the blue, "Would you ever want to move back here? If you wanted to move back here, we could make it happen."

And with those words, all the hurt and pain and angst I've been carrying around with me surrounding Santa Barbara was gone. Just gone. All of a sudden, it wasn't a place I had to will myself not to love because I was never allowed to be there again. Instead, it became just a place I happen not to be living in right now, but could move to in the future if I wanted to. Just to clarify, it wasn't like my husband was giving me permission (our relationship's not like that), but more that he reminded me/opened my eyes to what was possible, you know? And also, I don't know how much this plays into it, but time has gone by, and I have gotten better, I have a life for myself now, vs when I left Santa Barbara and pretty much couldn't see any sort of future for myself.

And it's so weird, but there's such a relief in the feeling that Santa Barbara and me, we can be friends again. I'm no longer in exile. I'm not saying we're going to move to Santa Barbara, but the fact that we COULD...that it's not permanently taken away from me...it's just a huge shift for me.

So you weren't sad at all while you were there?

Really, no. I mean, there are things I know not to do. I can't go by the house where my brother and I lived. I can't go by the intersection where my brother was killed. (It would have been nice to leave flowers there, but I know I can't handle it. Just writing about it is upsetting me.) But being in Santa Barbara felt very different this time around, and for that I am grateful.

So I do't know if I've explained this very well...it's kind of hard for me to talk about anything that's gone on around me losing my brother...I read it and it sounds so over-the-top and drama queen-y, you know? But that's how it's been and I'm just trying to tell it for real.

Oh, and PS, if we ever were to go back, I would never try to recreate what my brother and I had. I know that's not possible. It'd be a new start to a new life.

Hope everyone has an amazing weekend!

XOXO

Excitement and Trepidation and Trying to Let Go of the Pain

I'm going to Santa Barbara tomorrow, with my husband, for a wedding. And I'm SO happy to be going, so excited for my friends getting married, it's going to be great to see them and others, and it's going to be fun to be in Santa Barbara with my husband, because we spent a lot of time there when we were first dating, him coming down from Alaska and later Seattle to visit me the last months that I lived there. I know we're going to have a great time...everything about this trip is going to be happy and positive. 

But.

Santa Barbara's where I lived with my brother. It's where he was killed. It's a place I didn't want to leave, but felt like I had to. This is kind of hard to describe, but in a lot of ways, when my brother died, I felt like I died too, like we had both been exiled from this place and this life that we loved.

I've fought hard to build back a new life for myself, and it's a good life, but it's drastically different from the one that I had, and it's hard to be reminded of that old life, you know? I usually do a pretty good job keeping the hurt I still feel over my brother's death and the loss of Santa Barbara and my beach-y California girl surfer lifestyle under wraps. But going there...it can't help but come to the surface.

I keep thinking about this quote from the TV show Six Feet Under--I love love love that show, by the way...I'm going to do a post about it one of these days--that I read on the fabulous blog Mocking Bird over the weekend:

(David is talking to his dead father, Nathaniel.)

Nathaniel Sr.: You aren't ever grateful, are you?

David: Grateful? For the worst fucking experience of my life?

Nathaniel Sr.: You hang onto your pain like it means something, like it's worth something. Well, let me tell ya, it's not worth shit. Let it go. Infinite possibilites, and all he can do is whine.

David: Well, what am I supposed to do?

Nathaniel Sr.: What do you think? You can do anything, you lucky bastard, you're alive! What's a little pain compared to that?

David: It can't be that simple.

Nathaniel Sr. (putting his arm around David and pulling him closer): What if it is?

I'm trying to let the pain go. I swear. 

P.S. The last of our plans for the weekend just fell into place. I truly am sooooo incredibly excited to see so many people I love.

Back Monday.

XOXO

A Letter to My Brother, Six Years After His Death

How cool is it when your brother's in the band? A picture from one of his many shows...

Dear Luke,

Six years. In some ways it seems like yesterday, in others, that life I had with you seems so far in the past it’s almost as if it never happened. I hope you’re OK and that this hasn’t been as horrible and traumatic for you as it’s been for me.

Would you be surprised by the life I’m living? I had to leave our house in Santa Barbara, and all of California, behind. There just wasn’t the joy there without you. I never really surfed again after you died, which has been such a huge loss (although I brought three of the surfboards with me when I left, including the one with the panther on the nose that was yours but you always let me ride)…I’ve never been happier than early mornings in the surf with you. Once I stopped surfing, there wasn’t a good reason to stay. And I was seeing my now-husband (he had been working your old job up in Alaska, which is how we met)…he had moved to Seattle and I was so sad and lonely in the house you and I had shared…I thought maybe it would be better to go. I made the right decision to go be with my husband, but I’m still not sure if leaving California was the right thing. It’s hard to know if I miss IT, or I miss the life I had there that no longer exists. Would I be happy going back? I don’t know.

I lived in Seattle with my soon-to-be husband for six months…but it was winter and so grey and I was so sad…my husband thought I might do better closer to mom and dad, and so that’s how we ended up back in Colorado.

I’m married now, as you can tell. I work a lot less. I have your dog Dexter…I think he still misses you. I snowboard instead of surf (and sometimes when I’m out alone I sit on the side of a run and cry, I want you there with me so bad.)

My husband’s great…you would love him. We’re trying to have a baby, but that’s not going so well. I keep thinking a birth, some life, some pure joy would help me not to hurt so bad from your death and the loss of that whole happy life as a California surfer girl…I mean, I want to have a baby for so many more reasons than that, but I can’t help thinking having something happy to share with people instead of being the one who’s had to bear so many hardships…

I like to think of you in some happy and peaceful place, with a Jeep and my dog Shaye who died the year before you did, she’s hanging out on the beach while you surf the perfect waves and you don’t have to struggle anymore…you don’t have to deal with all the heartbreak you dealt with in this life, all the trying to figure things out and how are you going to find a girl to love and are you going to be an architect or stay the free spirit who can’t resist heading up to Alaska every time spring comes around. You don’t have to deal with disappointments and you don’t have to be sad when people you love die and you get to be the golden 27-year-old who did exactly what he wanted to do with this life—you’ll be that man forever.

I felt for a long time that when you died, I died too. I don’t feel that way anymore. There’s my husband now, and mom and dad and our brother, and I have such amazing friends and I’m trying to figure out something good to do with all the many years I probably have left. I do know life will never be the same without you. I’m glad it was you and not me, that you haven’t had to go through what we all have since you died (although I’m sure you would have done it with much more grace and poise than I). I’m not afraid to die, because it means I’ll get to be with you.

I love you, and please come visit me like you visit other people. I haven’t had a single sign that you’re in some way still here.

With love beyond measure,

Kristen