Bryr Brannigan - Unspoken Words: A Journey Through Grief

Dedication

I dedicate this book to my Mum, Sandra Dorne Brannigan-McCurdy (23/06/51 to 19/07/09); and to the friends who loved me and made time for me; who valued my life when I had ceased to value it; who encouraged me and listened to me; for those who let me cry, who held my hand, and who gave me hugs at three o'clock in the morning...and at more reasonable hours too; for those who prayed for me, prayed with me, and let me have sleep overs; for those who could see who I used to be, what I'd become, what I can be, and stood by me; who fed me or sent me home with meals when I couldn't face doing basic things for myself; for those who drank coffee with me...much coffee; for making me feel normal, for telling me it was OK; for those who were 'just there'; for my customers who made me laugh and brightened my work day (nothing like working with children and special needs people); for my two cats, Benj and Pip, whose affection and zest for life helped keep me going; for those who encouraged me to seek professional help (which proved to be invaluable); and for those who patiently and consistently told me the truth, over and over and over, thank you for not giving up.

Prologue

My Mum was diagnosed with cancer in mid 2008, I was 28 yrs old, and she was 57. I live in England, but returned home to Australia to help care for her and run her little farm until she was well enough to be able to do it for herself once again.

Mum underwent treatment and I finally returned to the UK in January 2009. In April 2009, she was re-diagnosed with cancer, this time terminal, with only three months to live. I returned again to Australia to care for her and the animals (goats, cats & dogs). My Mum went to be with Jesus in July 2009, just after her 58 th birthday.

There is no manual on how to grieve...no 'Dummies Guide to Grieving', and I have learned that even if there was, it would hold little value.

I guess the reason I've called this 'Unspoken Words', is because I silently held on to my grief for a long time with no idea how to express it. Emotionally low points came, occasional tears would spill, but the deep stuff, that I didn't even know about, the stuff that had no words, it didn't come, leaving a hidden wound that, in that state, would never heal.

When I was in my late teens and early twenties I used to write, but somewhere between there and last year, I had 'lost my pen', so to speak. I can only write what's in my heart, I'm not one to make things up, but I lost the ability to write for about ten years.

I was to learn that this grief wasn't just about the loss of my mother, I didn't just lose a person, it was much more than that.

I lost my Mum, my home, my sense of belonging, my stability, my spiritual rock, the one I could always go to no matter what time it was; in ways I lost my family (she used to help keep us children together), and in ways I lost my faith; I lost my animals; and I think worst of all (my Mum would agree), I lost myself, I ceased to 'live', I only survived.

Whether you deal with grief, or you don't, like a splinter, it has a way of working it's way out. For me, like a splinter, it was messy and painful, though pain is an understatement...completely shattered is closer to the truth. Much messier than my tidy little well kept together world would ever have dreamed. Toward the end of 2012, just over three years after my Mum passed away, the depth of my grief began to surface, and once again, I 'found my pen'.

Following is a 'Journey'. It is a mixed journey, like a stormy sea, tossing to and fro. A journey where at times, everything was so dark, I couldn't even see my hand in front of my face, and yet at other times, glimpses of beauty shone through. I desperately tried to restore my shattered faith, however, my feeble attempts merely gave me a roller coaster ride! My faith waxed and waned seemingly to me, without rhyme or reason. I had a God that though I never stopped believing in, I didn't know what to do with. I couldn't reconcile my experience with a 'good' God, yet He has been a God that has been faithful and I can look back and say, 'He has never let me go!'.

Welcome to 'A Journey Through Grief' .

November 2012 , my world was beginning to fall apart.

I grew up in a tough, 'pull your socks up and keep going' kind of family. Anyone with 'issues' was a bit nutty, in fact, we had a joke in our family where we called them a Fruit Cake (implying nutty as a fruit cake). Or there was always Fruit Loop (don't know if you know the breakfast cereal of the same name), they're a bit 'loopy'. So for me to start experiencing what I did was an incredibly foreign concept; I was in a place where I actually didn't have the ability to 'pull my socks' up. Keep going...well, I tried, but it was kind of like trying to climb up a slippery slide that was covered in cooking oil.

This is the kind of stuff people don't tend to talk about. I'm sure grief expresses itself in many ways with different people, but for me it came out in panic attacks. I would wake up in the middle of the night not being able to breath, struggling to draw breath as soon as I was stressed about anything, not sleeping well (believe me that did NOT help), I wasn't able to function properly. There were times when I couldn't cook or clean for myself and I had nothing left of myself to give to others...the only thing I did was survive. I needed money to buy food and pay rent. I'm not eligible for any benefit system so I needed to work...all I did consistently, was get up for work every day. I was SO angry with myself, I was so angry that I wasn't able to 'keep it together'.

On top all of this, I felt so incredibly alone. Despite this book being dedicated to quite a number of incredible people, the facts are, I live by myself, and lets face it, life happens, people aren't always there, they're not always available...then there's also the factor that if you want help, you need to ask for it...we're all human and no one is a mind reader.

Following is a poem entitled 'Sorrow', the first I'd written in about ten years. I actually rewrote it into a song a little after this and called it, 'Let Me In You Abide'. I would just sing it over and over, crying out with some shred of hope that there might be a way out, that somehow, my world would cease to cave in around me.

SORROW

My heart is filled with sorrow

My eyes could flood a thousand tears

Don't want to think about tomorrow

Or over the past few years

My soul it aches with loneliness

Despair's become my friend

I try and try and meet distress

There seems to be no end

I feel like I will crumble

Lord, I can't take it any more

I rise, I fall, I tumble

I'm crashed against the shore

I look to eyes and face familiar

They are no longer there

They hide behind the pillar

The mountain of their own despair

I feel like I'm forsaken

Oh please don't leave me God

My joy is shattered, taken

My life become a rod

My spirit says there's more than this

My heart faint whispers hear

Words of songs long gone amiss

They echo in my ear

I long to listen to them

Yet memories of pain

Come washing o'er and o'er again

Each day becomes the same

What's become of me my God?

What's become of me?

I must break out of mist and fog

I must learn to be

If I force myself to stand so still

If I strain my ears to hear

Somewhere deep inside this will

And deep inside this fear

The truth echoes inside of me

Faith lifts it weary head