Jilly Brandon

I can’t sleep…. I didn’t want to wake up today.

There is a knowing in my body all of this month. It’s incredible, and miraculous, and horrible how the body remembers loss.

I have scarcely had any migraine headaches at all this year, but this month of September… the Fall… I’ve had many, maybe 20.

The myriad of multi colored rainbow lights dance in front of my eyes, known as an ” aura”, and last for about 20 minutes, before turning into a headache. Then there is a familiar nausea in my stomach, and dark splotches that create a tunnel vision of shadows which inhibits my vision.

My fingers tingle, and become numb, as does the tip of my nose, and often a part of my lips. It is freaky.. I have never gotten used to these headaches.

They started when I was around 11 years old, and have become a familiar reminder that health, and life is in the balance at all times, should I ever have the nerve to take it for granted.

My Nanny, who lived in the little cottage out on the farm, taught me to do ” biofeedback,” when I was a young girl, to try to cope with the pain.

I would lay in her bed, covered with a white chenille blanket, and she would speak softly to me, relaxing my tense body, that was crying out, into a gentle, and quiet place, where I would often fall into a peaceful nap. She would sing hymns in a soothing voice, and caress my back with soft strokes, that would melt away the discomfort.

I often had a cool cloth over my eyes, because it would feel as if my eyes were made of lead, and yet they wanted to bulge out of my sockets all at the same time.

After I would wake up, I was ravenous… for carbs… toast with butter… and 1 time I recall almost eating an entire loaf of bread…such was my insatiable hunger.

Several others of my family have inherited these headaches… not part of the gene pool that was welcomed, but non the less, you take what you get, cuz your genes come from both sets of your parents. You have no choice in the matter.

I was on a plane on Friday the 13th, and realized that I was also seated in row 13A… inexplicably, I had the row all to myself. I am not superstitious, but on that day, truth be told, I did pray a little harder when the plane ascended the skies. There was a great breathing out of relief, when we touched down roughly upon the blackened tarmac.

It is September, the Fall, a lovely time of year. Leaves change, and turn into glorious shades of crimson, burnt coppery orange, and golden yellow. It’s as if nature turned up the color wheel and said, “now…. this place will glow with such glory one last time before the barren of winter.”

Walking through the season that ends in death as these leaves  gently are blown to the ground, reminds me of a firecracker, spreading its flash of light into the darkened night sky before exploding… and emptying itself out in full spectacular color.

It is dramatic… nature is so much this way, and it echoes life…

The body remembers in ways that the mind does not want to.

Grief is recorded in the soul.

There is no escape, except to live..

it’s 4 years today, that she took her last breath, and slipped from our arms, into the embrace of Jesus.

How can that be? I still can’t reconcile her absence. I still don’t quite know what to do with myself. My world is forever changed, and the world of my family.

This little girl, who was just 17 years old, who never spoke a word, was grossly cognitively challenged, and physically too, changed our lives.

What will our world become if we can genetically modify, and correct ” abnormalities” in the womb before birth. What will we miss? The horror of trying to exist in a world that preaches acceptance, yet tells us we need to be perfect to be loved?

I can’t conceive that type of utopia. The true teaching that is  of any significance comes through suffering of spirit, of pain so bright and malignant , we fall on our faces, and moan, and wail for it to all be over.

The lessons of sorrow guide us into the purity of love, and the knowing that sharing in that love is “the sacred journey.”

The cool night air creeps in my window like a thief, and covers my shoulders with its chill.  Even my nose feels cold. Laying still and remembering.

There are never enough moments with the people that we love. It’s an insatiable hunger as we kiss, and hug goodbye, to want to plan for the next reunion… because that last touch is agony.

“Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing.” (Helen Keller)

It’s the ” nothing” that we should fear. The unknown is the adventure, and diving in us the most exhilarating, and worthwhile endeavor that there is. Bianca would want it this way. She was not a girl to sit on the sidelines, even though she sat in a wheelchair.

I thought I would be sad when her wheelchair was destroyed by the flood this past Spring, but when the movers threw the bent and wasted carcass of the metal contraption into the dumpster, I felt a sense of relief. I had not had the courage to dispense with it… so nature helped.

Her wheelchair, after all, was just a vehicle for her…her spirit really soared above it.

This flood that happened this Spring has created blessing… only God does that. It makes no sense, and yet, miraculously, the learning, and trusting increases, and with that, a hopeful stepping forward, no matter what the future holds.

That first ride on the back of a Harley, the sunset turning all pink and orange before you, the thrill of it all, the jumping out of a place with the earth far below( I’ve only watched this,) … taking the risk… accepting the limitations.

It’s all frightening… the falling down, and the getting up, the birth, and the death. It’s a part of everything that we touch. I’d rather be awake to it all, then be safe.

To friends that have been there all along the way, you are the bomb… and I’ll bring a box of wine to your house any old time… thank you for caring so much. I am gratefully indebted.

The precious individuals that we continue to do life with, are like peanut butter and jelly. The flavors mesh, and collide, and bring joy to the palette that is our lives.

There is absolutely no better feeling than to be accepted by your loved ones, amidst your mistakes, and wrongdoings.

In this season of falling, I remember you my dearest daughter, Bianca, and your brothers who stoically stood up for you, came in second behind you, and loved you exceedingly well.

They sacrificed, and bared the brunt of your not being in this world with them. You were proud of them, and adored the way they teased and loved on you.

Finding the way to live without you in our lives has been a monolithic challenge, but we don’t regret one moment with you. The eternal light that beckons forward the calm embrace of what comes next is not in my hands. The missing seems unbearable, but there will be a reunion… in the heavens… one day… I can’t wait …