September 11, 2011. 

Kevin Eugene Phelps, died.

And in return, so did I.

For all intents and purposes.

My baby brother. One of my best friends ever. My jokester. My loud belly laugher.

My intellect. My confidante. My muse. My sanity. My referee. My problem solver.

One of the loves of my life...

On Wednesday, September 11, 2013, Kevie will have passed on to his permanent and spiritual walkabout, 2 years ago. 9/11/11. Complications of over 20 years of being HIV positive. That day was the most difficult day of my life. Easy cliche to say...

I hope nothing ever surpasses that take you to your knees kind of wipeout.. . I literally could not stand the weight and pressure of pain like that, ever again...

The questions... oh so many questions... Everyone meaning well, trying so hard to help, but seldom knowing how... Sometimes you shove your anger at this loss, in their face, because that takes the focus off the pain in your entire physical being... For a few seconds... Even as it leaves a rift in your living relationships. Kevie would hate that....

You feel so heavy... As if every boulder in the world fights for position on your shoulders... And even when you force yourself to ignore it, the WEIGHT, that horrible, heavy, onerous weight, remains inside... Where you will never reach it, never exorcise it, never release it...

Time heals nothing. Laughter heals nothing. The kindest and most thoughtful words, heal nothing. The patience of other, heal nothing. The heartfelt gifts, the generous words and efforts, heal nothing... The ONLY healing, will take place if Kevie comes back home, where he belongs. Only now he never will. And if you're anything like me, you then pretend he never left. You fool yourself, so you don't wait in vain for the impossible. The miracle you'll never receive...

You keep a shirt you grab from his dirty clothes, by your bedside. His fragrance becomes him, if you close your eyes and inhale. Hugging his shirt is the first thing you do in the morning; the last thing you do before closing your eyes to the nightmares ahead. And then you awaken and start over again. All with the Pagliacci smile plasted across your face. Grateful you have at least that to feel normal, to look normal, to fool everyone into thinking you're 'getting through it'. 'Dealing with it.' 'Grieving at your own pace'. You see Kevie everywhere... In every song... Every movie... EVERYWHERE... His presence is literally so palpable, you reach out and expect to feel the slight pressure of his grabbing your hand gently, squeezing to reassure you that this is merely the worst nightmare of all time... 

My baby brother. I diapered you, fed you, woke up at nite with you, put you down for naps and bedtime, burped you, changed your diaper hundreds of times, potty trained you, carried you, mothered you... In my heart, you are a bit my child too. You permeate every cell of my soul... Every fiber of my being... Every waking thought... I talk to you all the time... Ask you questions... Hold conversations... Only I have to reply, for you. You make not a sound...

The daily day goes by, a second, a step, at a time... You do your best, knowing you're doing so much, so wrong... But so what, Kevie can't die again because of it... You hide your anger so well, you have no idea you're even angry... You think this is your unique way of grieving... Your latent loner starts creeping to the surface; you begin hiding from family, friends... Many of them are in the same boat, the same grief, and how can you help them, you are hanging on by a thread thinner than a strand of human hair... 

You read. You research grief. You try applying it to your situation. But life's weight never lifts.

More death. More cogs in life's wheels. Par for the course by now. You try doing things you used to love. You try doing new things to jump start YOU, again. You wish, you pray, for life to be as light as it was before, but life laughs in your face... Feelings, it seems to grin, are for feeling... 

If the pain doesn't give you a break soon, you just know your heart will stop... And then you begin relying on that. Que sera sera, right? Your internal darkness threatens to claim you. More times than you're afraid to count. You wouldn't hurt yourself, you can't worry everyone or cause them extra pain. But if your heart stops, you believe you'll be too exhausted to fight for your survival... 

Since you can't accept, you can't move forward... Since you don't want to forget a thing, you have to remain behind, in the past, during your present. You have no purpose, other than keeping your word and doing what others need you to do. Why bother with makeup? New clothes? Chilling at the beach? Kevie will still be dead... Your head fights the weight of your soul, constantly... It's exhausting...

You've given recovery from this tragic and devastating loss, your best shot. You've done everything asked of you, and more. You've believed in the relief of grief worked on and dealt with. THERE IS NO HEALING. 

Then one day, when you least expect it, an online friend who's sense of family and sense of humor has given you many smiles after meeting her, tells you something that will change your life. Unlock a door. Allow you to proceed. She says:

'You don't ever get though or over things like this. You just learn to live with them.'

Oprah Aha Moment. Lightbulbs going off over my head. Bells clanging. By jove, I think she's got it! In my bones, I FEEL the difference. Nothing in this entire process has made more sense than this. Ramona had lost her brother as well, years ago. And she GOT it. And I cried with relief. With hope. And I told her, publicly, that I did. Who knows how many were keeping grief bottled inside awaiting the inevitable and tragic implosion? Ramona Y.F. gave me life that day, and I'm forever grateful to her for it.

Such clarity came to me after that. Kevie and I agreed, always, that life is for living. A gift to be treasured. I'd already tried cherishing it, moving along with happier times, and everyone was pretty sure I was succeeding. No one had any idea, til maybe now, how poorly I was failing my own mantra. Not even myself, for the longest time. 

Grief of this magnitude made me realize that life would never be the same. Kevie would never return to us. EVERYTHING was different. Changed. Forever altered. We were entering a new 'normal', and we had no say so at the entrance. We only had options for how we chose to enter. 

If I so choose, I can grieve until my last breath. It's not very productive, but it's my option. I choose what Kevie chose to give all of us his last half of his life: LIFE. We were able to share so much of a beautiful life, because he chose to fight his condition and LIVE. And as Wednesday comes churning closer, I feel better able to let him soar, wherever and however, he needs to fly. He's babysat me long enough, his memory has dried my tears oh so many times, his presence in my heart has kept me steady when I wobbled like a new born colt. 

Am I healed? Of course not. Can never happen. There will still be tears. That heaviness. Difficulties in navigating a life I would never thought would come to pass; I'm older than Kevie, I should've gone first. My world has dimmed, for eternity. Pain? It's permanent. But I learn to live with it, because it lets me know I'm alive. 

And life, is for the living... 

Kevie taught me that...