It's here again.

This time of year when the memories and my ability to keep my feelings at bay overwhelm me.

I've tried too long to believe those who have told me to get over it and move on.

Those who have said perhaps I enjoy and cling to this anguish.

You are wrong.

I have decided today to allow it to come and take up residence for however long it takes this time.

In that way, the tears will flow unchecked, and perhaps the well will become dry.

This time of memories lasts about 5 weeks.

It begins with the anniversary of one death, then one birthday, follow by the largest loss of all.

It struck me today, that grief is like making art.

It is totally unique to each of us.

There is not right or wrong way to accomplish it.

Each of us as individuals has a unique relationship with other unique individuals.

When that person is not longer on this earth we experience that loss in our own way.

And of course, we express our emotions uniquely as well.

No one has the right to judge our journey or our expression.

I would give anything to not experience this pain, discomfort, and anguish each year.

To be able to look at the date on the calendar and see a number, not a face.

To not want to pick up the phone and have a conversation with a person who no longer exists.

And then perhaps, when love is strong and built from shared traumatic and enjoyable experiences, that depth of feeling should live on.

Grief is like peeling an onion.

Each layer causes pain and tears.

There are multiple layers.

Some are thick, and some are thin.

And it seems to go on forever.

At one point I thought I could decide not to love anymore.

To distance myself from meaningful relationships so I wouldn't experience pain.

That doesn't work either.

As humans we are made to love and care about others.

We also need love and support from one another in order to function in a healthy way.

I hope that as many more people have experienced loss over the past couple of years we can be more supportive of those living with grief.

I don't think you get over grief, or that it goes away.

I think grief is a living thing, and that when I don't honor it with attention when it calls to me, it grows in intensity.

It's like when and image forms in your mind that demands to be put on paper.

The image grows stronger, and you see it in objects around you.

Perhaps it interrupts your sleep with dreams.

Until finally you sit down and bring it to life with form and color on the paper.

The most difficult piece of this puzzle for me is that I believe that my God is a God of love.

I know he has the ability to heal all people.

I don't understand why he would remove someone of such amazing significance from this world so young. 

Both deaths were horribly painful, and both my brothers wasted away to skeletons before they died.

Both were loving and faithful.

I just don't understand. 

I guess I continue to grieve because I am unable to truly accept that that God in his infinite wisdom knows something I don't.

That he was being loving and compassionate to the boys (because at 21 and 34, they were barely men).

I could rant and rave about the injustice of death, and I can also acknowledge that heaven is a far better place than earth.

There are many options when faced with the lost of a significant person in our lives.

And I've moved through them all repeatedly.

I probably will continue to do so.

Perhaps it is a blessing that these anniversaries are grouped together.

The intensity is therefore limited to one time of year.

The timing of it being during spring means I am surrounded by new growth and blooming flowers.

There is less rain, usually, and more sun and beautiful sunsets.

I remember my Dad's constant assurance whenever difficulties came our way, "This too shall pass."

If you are new to grief, I can assure you that grief will come and go.

Like the waves of the ocean, some will be bigger than others, and some stronger carrying sand and debris.

And then gentle movement will follow.

So as the storm rages in me today, I am allowing the feelings to flow through me.

I hope to paint and allow the colors flow however they choose.

I can open my mind and heart and continue to heal.

And I can honor my love for two incredible examples of love, humor, and support.

I love you Doug and Brian.

I will never forget you.