CASTLE ROCK, Colo. (AP) — He knows all about the stages of grief. Denial and isolation top the list. But how can he possibly deny all that's happened? In the mirror, he sees the 14-inch scar across his abdomen. Beneath the scar, lodged below his heart, is a piece of Ryan, his brother.Journal entry, Aug. 22: "I missed you today Ryan. It hurt so much I felt like my heart had blisters on it. God, why do we need death to reawaken what we should already know?"
The grief comes in waves, sometimes gently washing over him, sometimes crashing down hard and threatening to drown him. When the waves come, and they always do, he may cry or shut himself up in a room and talk to Ryan alone. Or he finds a quiet place and sits down with his laptop. And then he chronicles his agony and shares it with the world, processing his pain in a way that is opposite of isolation, with words that ache as his soul aches.
He writes of guilt and self-pity. Of feeling wrecked and undeserving. Of a faith now tested. They are raw and withering, these painfully candid expressions of a man wrestling with so much more than the sorrow that comes with losing a loved one. Read more >>
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