I apologize to all of you for not blogging sooner. I have been riding the wave of grief. Having trouble getting out of bed. Not doing my make up. Just wasting my time on a silly game. (It helped me not to think.) So I heard a friend say she was reading someone else's blog about their grief. This made me think it was about time to stop pretending that my life is painless and full of pleasantries. This time I am using my blog to share my personal story. It is real. I am real. My pain is real. I live with heartache everyday….
Ok. So, here I go. I am terrified. . (terrified of your judgement, I have had soooo much of it) I hope to bring comfort to others who are walking this path of grief. I hope to help those around me and those who just "don't get it". This is personal. This is MINE. No one's grieving is the same. I don't want advice. The advice I've had has NOT been helpful. Instead, it has hurt me more. The judgements I have faced are so very hurtful…
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His Last Flight
I watched Brian pack up his bags, and dismantle his bike. Placing all in the back of a small rental car. Black T-shirt, khaki shorts and flip-flops I bought him, heading to British Columbia with his Dad (who would return on his own shortly). Brian praised me and my smarts for being able to figure out how to put the racks on top of the van, without the assistance of him or his Dad. (That was so like him. So loving, so praising.) I felt so sad to see him go. (I always felt this way when he left; always anxious about his safety and his return.) This time was different. He gave us all a long hug and kiss, told us that he loved us. Told the girls, "Be good for Mom, ok?"
He had taken on a new job. Leaving behind his flying job here in the city in Alberta where he was third in charge. Chief pilot. Brian always said that flying was so much safer than driving and that I need not worry. This new job was indeed dangerous. He would be flying water bombers, flying low and putting out fires (sorry, I am crying)…in the mountains of B.C. He would work 4-5 months and then have the rest of the year to be with me.
We had so many many plans.
We had recently flown out for the day (an amazing date together) and found a home close to his new job. We put an offer on it. We were in the middle of building a new home. So, here we were with two houses to sell. We didn't care. We had always wanted to move to B.C. I was ready to give away all the girls winter clothes and buy rain gear, (something told me to wait).
We Skype called every day. Sometimes 2-3 times. We phoned each other constantly. Shared numerous emails, with sweet loving words. He looked sad to be away. More so than I had ever seen him. One day he said, "That was a close one, Nettie. I didn't think we were gonna make it."
Our 10 year anniversary came. It had been raining so very much. There and here. (Later, I was told it was a record breaking rain fall that year, hardly any fires…hmmm) He wasn't flying much. He tried to come home, and had made arrangements with another pilot to switch. Someone's feelings must have gotten hurt, and he was told no. We Skyped. He told me he had a surprise for me. I hoped it was him coming home. 4 little girls is a lot on my own. Nope. He was sending flowers.
"No way Brye. I don't want them unless you are hand delivering them." This would be the last flowers he would ever send me.
The rains continued.
July 31, 2010. I Skyped him. Emailed him. I was meeting director friends and we were going to plan a future project. I told him his wife had to be there and he respected that. (I valued my marriage to Brye so much as to not be alone with another man) When I got home I had an email from Brye telling me he missed me and to check this website. It would show him in flight. When I checked it, something didn't seem right. His plane wasn't moving like the others. I didn't understand it. I couldn't reach him. I said my prayers and for once in my entire married life I "forgot" to pray for my Brian's protection. (I did this up to ten times a day.) I believe the Lord could not answer that plea as Brian was already dead when I went to bed. I believe I was "made to forget". Perhaps, Brian was watching me pray? I dunno.
Brian's Dad lived with us and had a form of emphysema. He went to go pick up our oldest daughter from work. I was asleep. She had heard on Grandpa's radio that there had been a plane crash with the company Brian worked for. When they returned home, she had to persist that he call to confirm. They did. Grandpa did not want to tell me. So, my young teenage daughter made her way to my room.
"Mom, there's been an accident." I bolted up, expecting it was Grandpa and his emphysema. Her next words I will never forget.
"It's Dad. He's dead."
My girls tell me they woke up because I was screaming. I don't remember this. I picked up my phone and called Brian's cell. It rang. I was able to leave a message. (odd, I know) I asked him if he was ok. I may have even asked him if he was dead. I had to hear his voice. I had to know. I then called the last number in my phone. (Since I had no coherent thoughts to find any other number) and phoned a member of our bishopric. I requested a priesthood blessing. I KNEW Heavenly Father would tell me right away and I would not be left guessing if Brian was hurting somewhere. In the blessing, Heavenly Father did confirm my worst fears. (If you feel to listen to the song, 'I Want You to Live' by George Canyon, that is pretty close to my story.)
I was sitting on the couch. My second oldest daughter suddenly said, "I see Dad!" I turned to look out the window, thinking he was outside and that this was all such a terrible mistake. But, no, how could he be in BC and now home? My mind, spirit and body felt so unaligned. The pain was so unbearable. I could hardly breathe. I shook so violently. The skin under my chin never felt so tight as it did in those weeks from crying so hard that tears could not flow.
She proceeded to say Brian was in the corner. That he was glowing. He was all white. He had no glasses on. She could only see him from the neck up. I asked her what he was doing. She said he was making faces at me in order to make her laugh. He was giving her the thumbs up sign. I have since had many wonderful spiritual experiences of my own. Each dear and tender, confirming that God is a God of miracles and that He DOES exist the same today as He did eons ago.
I did not sleep. I waited to call the other pilots he knew, as I wanted them to get their rest so as not to put their flying at risk. I had to call so many many people and tell them that my Brain was dead.
I have had to release forms from our dentist in order to confirm his body. There was nothing left of the other pilot, I am so sorry to say. Brian's torso remained. I had to read the coroner's report of what his body had endured and what was left. So much pain. I read and reread Transport Canada's report and had to give my opinion, and any suggestions into the accident. This report was in great detail. It was like living the accident through his eyes. I felt Brian beside me during these moments. Helping me to understand. Helping me write my response. (With great prayer I received help. Many of my remarks have been put into action and others are being considered by the board).
I, at 34 with four little girls, the youngest was 3, had to plan my husband's memorial. I was denied many requests. I tried to please my extended family. They were not pleased. I paid out of my pocket for expenses not covered for the memorial. I had to ask my friend (who has business in the funeral home industry) to go and pick up Brian's remains.
I had to stand with my girls and Grandpa beside a wooden box with what was left of my Brian, their Daddy. We wrote notes of love on the box, and then I had to press a big red button and send him into the incinerator to be cremated. Ouch.
I had to go through his things. Pack them up. His toothbrush. His shirts. They
still smell like him. Books he read, the last page his eyes ever gazed upon, love letters, and cards, pictures, our last Christmas together, our last bike ride, picnic, swim, hike, hopscotch with girls…
Brian's family was helpful, at first. Then, much damage was wrought. In order to not be hurtful myself…let's suffice it to say that much damage was done. I have learned that when people grieve, there is much anger and wanting to blame someone for their pain. I was the object of much abuse due to hurt and loss.
Brian's memorial was beautiful. I knew it was outlandish for him. But, funerals, memorials, they aren't for the dead. They are for the living. For those left behind. I knew others needed this. (Brian's body didn't make it to the service, he was still being retrieved.) Everyone wore their uniforms, be it fire, police, airline, or bicycle courier. He had hundreds and hundreds of people come. I stood, with the help of some kind family members, and shook hands/hugged all that came to see me. Hundreds and hundreds of people. The firemen had a truck outside, their colour guard stood at the door. I remember holding my head high, being so proud of my husband and wanting to look so much stronger than I felt. I was too young to be a …widow! The colour guard escorted me and my girls to the front of the chapel. My shoulders felt so heavy. Wonderful words were said about how great my Brian was. (and is) Afterwards, we let balloons free into the sky, a symbol of his ascending into heaven and his last flight.)
I was 95 lbs. I hadn't eaten in days. I didn't drink. I felt like I didn't deserve anything good. Nothing sweet ever again. My 'sweet' had died. I felt I could never enjoy life again. I was sleeping on Brian's side of the bed, to be close to him. I was wearing his shirts, sweats and socks. I remember waking up, the sun was finally shining through my window. I rolled over to feel it's warmth. Opening my eyes, I thought, oh yes, finally, the sun is shining. Thinking I had dreamed all that
bad, and then the crushing weight on my heart when reality sunk in to remind me, that no, this was not a dream, but that this awful nightmare was now my LIFE! My best friend, my love, my companion for life and for eternity, my romantic, funny, sweet, strong partner, my everything, the only love I had ever truly loved so deeply, so true, with such a rare and tender relationship like no one I knew enjoyed…was gone.
I had no money. We had no insurance. My husband had filled in all the health questions for our insurance on our home that was being built, but had absent mindedly checked off the "no" box. Well, Royal Bank was quick to say "No" to granting builder's insurance to a window. I had no coverage, no insurance to cover the new home being built. I had no job, no credit rating. I would have been in big trouble with the bank on this new home. Luckily, Brian had some insurance through his new job. I asked for help, got some help from church but then was denied. (The church is perfect, the people are not, my situation was a new one for my ward, they did the best why knew how). I could have lost my home. Comfree was so gracious, they came and took down my "For Sale" sign on the home we were living in and gave me all my money back. My dream of moving to BC was dead. (All my dreams were dead. I could see no future.) Later, however, I had to sell this home of love that Brain and I had built together, lived in, had children, tenderly planted and cared for our garden, our yard…the home we made many memories in.
The hurting continued. There were moments when I truly, literally thought my heart would break.
People generously gave to the "Tilley girls trust fund". If that was you, thank you. We needed that money to survive at first.
I prayed to never need a man. To survive on my own. To never need a hug or kiss from a man. To become less of a woman. To be a robot, I suppose. I desired to be like Pres. Uchtdorf's Mom. To be a single mom. (Again! My first husband cheated on me and left me and my first daughter when she was 3) I could do it. At least, I thought I could.
Then along came Kevin. I had many spiritual confirmations, as did all my friends around me, that he was to take care of me and my girls. And, I tell you, he came not a moment too soon. (This is where my extended family got ugly to say the least. They were/are hurting too) The Lord knew I should not be alone, nor my girls.
I wish to say, with much reluctance, but I feel it should be said…for those who judge, for those who care to help others who grieve. Before marrying Kevin, I just wanted to be with Brian. My pain was so great that I could not think even about my sweet, beautiful daughters. I wanted to die. I would drive recklessly, I would walk in the dark where big construction trucks were driving, I would dump out pills and stare at them. It isn't easy to hurt yourself when you feel your angelic husband watching you from the other side of the veil. It's very embarrassing. (For those who feel this desire to die, to hurt yourself, be strong. Pray with great earnest. It WILL pass. Have faith. Mine has. It is a natural desire to be with those who pass. Ride the tidal wave of grief. The waters are supposed to get calm again.)
Kevin is great. He truly is. Being a widow doesn't mean you stop loving your husband. Remarrying after death is not anything like a divorce. You SHOULD still talk about them. I have been told to stop talking and just listen, to close my mouth. That being a friend to me is a burden. Did you really think this was helpful? Well, I lovingly say it is not. Talking heals. I am riding this wave again. Some waves are small and some are tsunami big. Because of my pain and hurtful words, I sit alone. I miss my friends. Where have they gone? I am afraid to make all new friends. No one I know is a widow as young as me, with 4 small children. This makes it hard to bond. I feel old beyond my years.
I have had so many changes. I lost Brian, our home together and the home we were building together, family, friends. I live in a new home, a new community, a new church ward in the building that Brian's memorial was held (every sunday I see the memorial all over again in my mind, every Sunday I see the temple we were sealed in) Grieving doesn't end in one year, or two or three. We don't just pick up and "move on". We need you. We just need to talk. We don't need advice, just a listening ear, a hug, a walk, a shopping day. We need to take time to take care of ourselves. Please don't judge this as selfishness. We need to fill the well before we can give water to anyone else.
I live with a hole in my heart everyday. I ache every day. (As I've said before, a person who loses their arm will heal, but until the resurrection, their own arm will still be gone. Until I am reunited, I will still have hole). Somedays are better than others. The waves come. They do. I hate water! (Rain, waves..that's a little bit of humour, by the way) Kevin makes this life so much easier to bare. He helps me every day. He is patient, loving, kind, generous, he loves my and Brian's children. He is grateful to Brian for me. He listens. He knows I love Brian, but (and I am hoping I make this clear to those who have difficulty understanding) just like I do not love one child more than another, I love both men in my life. Kevin gets this. I hope others can too. Brian is my little girl's Daddy, always will be. He is a part of our life. Why should he not be? Kevin - I wouldn't have made it without him.
Lyrics to "I Want You to Live" by George Canyon
When she got the news
The phone hit the floor
She fell to her knees,
And cried his name
He had just kissed her lips,
And both of the kids
Their lives will never be the same
The end of her hardest day
The only words she could say were,
I want you to live,
I want you to love,
I want to go back to the way it was,
To hear you say my name again,
I want to see your smile again
I want you to live
It takes all of her strength
To go through his things
It feels like she's holding him again
The letters he wrote, books that he'd read
And some of his shirts still had his scent
The picture in Florida
She holds to her heart and cries out loud
I want you to live,
I want you to love,
I want to go back to the way it was,
To hear you say my name again,
I want to see your smile again,
Lying awake in the middle of the night
Trying not to let the kids hear her cry
She prays for an answer, some little of sign
And closes her eyes
And swears she hears him say,
I want you to live,
I want you to love
I want you to go on and not give up
I want you to live,
I want you to try,
I want you to know that I'm alright
I want you to fall in love again
I want to see you smile again
And again,
I want you to live
