tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33244101153448280562024-03-12T18:36:18.485-07:00Facing the NightLaura Sieverthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16405822298138343492noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3324410115344828056.post-63513218823672765462013-03-06T07:01:00.002-08:002013-03-06T13:52:28.202-08:00Surprise Insight<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My friend wrote a free verse poem for me a while back, and I wanted to share it on here. She has never gone through loss like this so I was incredibly surprised by her insight into what grief is really like. Not many people have wisdom like this.<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">The New Reality</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Loss grips your stomach and ties it into knots no one can untie.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Loss, of a loved one, is an evil spark that eats at all of who you are,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Consumes the life you thought you knew.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Loss is all you think about and all you want to forget.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">No longer is the sun bright or the joke funny,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Everything is dull.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Life seemed to fall apart at your feet into sad little crumbs,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">In one disgustingly unbelievable moment.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Worse than the drop off a rollercoaster,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">As your gut slides into your throat.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Worse than a heartburn that cripples, and sends you to your knees.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Questions that weren’t needed before drown a once-free mind.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">So much change, so much pain.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Loss shuts you down—logic is no longer a consideration, and</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Laughter no long a friend.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">The joys of others make you angry and God becomes a fool.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Loss is the new reality; life without them isn’t life at all.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Facing the truth is walking into a cold, wet cell and turning off the sun forever.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Dear friend, don’t steal the key—</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Give it to someone you trust, so that when the time is right,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">And faith has untied those once unbearable knots,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">You may be let out into the sun.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">And it will be brightly shining on your beautiful face as you laugh, finally,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">And return to your once-foolish God.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">-Megan Pierce</span></div>
</div>
Laura Sieverthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16405822298138343492noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3324410115344828056.post-72288319248172227252013-02-25T14:46:00.000-08:002013-03-07T03:23:40.611-08:00Grief Lesson 101<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><b>I wish people had known what to do and what to say to me when I was going through my deepest pain, so I put together a list of 10 things that I think are most important to know when someone close to you is going through grief.</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><b>1. Never, I repeat NEVER, say that God has a plan</b><br />
Now this may sound hypocritical coming from a Christian, but hear me out. In the days after my brother died I heard that more than a hundred times, probably 10 times that, and all I learned from it was that no one knew what to say. This phrase become so overused that I ceased to hear what the words meant, there ceased to be any comfort in them for me. This was just a phrase that people who had no idea what to say would blurt out so that they could pat themselves on the back for comforting a grieving person. DON'T USE CLICHES. It just says that you don't care about the person.<br />
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<b>2. Dont just say you are there for the person, FIND A WAY TO BE THERE</b><br />
Yes this is somewhat like number one but it is worth being said. So many people came up to me and said "if there is any way I can help just let me know". At the time I didn't know how to help myself much less tell other people how to. If you really want to be there, do something for them. Clean their house, make them dinners, do the menial stuff. It may seem like they don't notice you at first but rest assured, they do. So many people sent flowers and cards but the people who ended up meaning the most to my family were the people that stuck with us and did the little things.<br />
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<b>3. Silence is okay- presence is necessary</b><br />
I think people today are scared of silence, are scared of the awkward moments with a grieving person. So many people don't know what to say so they avoid you. I really thought that people would be there for me, but never was I proven more wrong. Best friends became strangers in the matter of days. I lost countless friends because they didn't know what to say to me. What they needed to know what that I never expected them to know what to say, I only wanted them to be there with me, to feel my pain with me.<br />
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<b>4. Don't pretend like it never happened</b><br />
So many people think that they can't mention the person's name that you are grieving for fear that it will set you off. But I cant stand this. My brother lived, and he lived every moment of every day, and it is a shame to his memory that people pretend like he never was even there. One of my "friends" asked why I like to talk about Patrick because "wouldn't that just remind you of the pain?" What people need to realize is that I will never forget, there is no reminding for me because it is always on my mind. Hearing stories about my brother makes me happy and makes me realize that I had something so special. My family tells stories all the time about my brother and we laugh at them . We miss him but we still love to hear about him.<br />
<br />
<b>5. Time is different for grieving people</b><br />
"Time heals all wounds" is probably the stupidest thing I have ever heard, not because it isn't true but because it is misleading. In two weeks it will be one year for my family and I don't think I have even begun the journey to healing yet. Time is the ultimate paradox in my world. Each day could not go slower, it feels like I wake up in the morning and immediately long to have the day be over and in my bed again that night. Yet when I look back at this past year it feels like it was a blink of an eye. The pain is still as real to me today as it was on March 8th.<br />
<br />
<b>6. Grief can feel so much like fear</b><br />
If you want to know somewhat what grief feels like imagine the time you were the most anxious, most worried, most afraid for something and apply that to every day. I am terrified all the time but I have no idea of what. I worry for my future, that this pain will never end. I am scared that I will forget my brother. I am afraid that this pain will go away (as contradictory as that sounds). It feels like there is something missing in every moment of every day, there is no contentment.<br />
<br />
<b>7. DO NOT COMPARE HURT</b><br />
I have learned through my journey that there are many different types of hurt and each are very valid but there is a line. You do not compare grief. So many people came up to me and told me that they understand me because their 85 year old grandpa died last year. I completely get it that you may have been close to your grandfather but don't tell me that you understand. I lost my 18 year old brother. Completely different. The best was when someone told me that they understood because they lost their dog. I wont even begin to describe how bad that is. Although even when there is severe pain and loss, do not compare grief. It will become a battle of who is hurting more and instead of being comforting, it tears you apart. Just be with the other person in their pain.<br />
<br />
<b>8. Don't overdo it on the God stuff</b><br />
Let the person find out what God has to say about death and life themselves, don't shove it down their throats. I had a really hard time finding comfort in the scriptures at the beginning and so many of my christian friends kept feeding me bible verses and christian sayings because they thought they were being comforting. I would come to realize everything God had to say on my own time but in the mean time I needed people to understand that I wasn't blaming God, I just was not exactly a fan of His, and that is okay.<br />
<br />
<b>9. The issue will never go away</b><br />
There are times when I feel really bad for my friends. They can listen to me for hours on end saying how much I miss my brother, and then the next day I will say the same exact thing. I will tell the same stories, cry over the same picture,and repeat all of my worries and fears, yet there is nothing anyone can do to make them magically go away. Just be prepared to listen again, and again, and again.<br />
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<b>10. Grief is so not pretty</b><br />
You know when you see people cry in the movies, with one tear staining their cheek and still being able to ramble off some eloquent speech, ya it's not like that at all. I now know the meaning of the word "weep". A lot of people think it is just crying heavily, no. It is something so much deeper than sadness. It is an outcry of the pain that is in one's heart. I have experienced tears in many public places over the past year and I can't even begin to describe the looks people have given me. When I cry my face takes on a strange resemblance to someone suffering from a severe allergic reaction and stays that way for quite a long while. Even I have to admit it is repulsive. So if you want to be there for a person who is mourning, brace yourself.<br />
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</div>Laura Sieverthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16405822298138343492noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3324410115344828056.post-16614579115867134372012-11-18T11:45:00.002-08:002013-03-06T13:51:36.262-08:00The Start of the Holidays<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
And so it begins....<br />
all of the hoop-la over nothing, or in other words the holidays. It is now 4 days until Thanksgiving and I could not dread it more. All of the traditions that have been upheld for all of my life are now going to fall like dominoes. There is no way I could do them but no way that I could ever forget.<br />
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This year we are having pulled pork sandwiches at home and watching football (even though I hate football). As much as I wouldn't be able to make the journey up to my aunt's, like every year before, the absence of that journey is still painful in itself.<i> I feel lost...</i>lost<i> </i>without the tradition, without the anticipation just to eat food and laugh over the most stupid jokes. Although the feeling of being lost is one I have become well acquainted with.<br />
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And it isn't just Thanksgiving I'm dreading, it is the procession. After thanksgiving its black Friday and then after that Christmas is in full force. Not to mention it is winter and me and snow do not have the best of memories. My family and I would always go to our closest outlet mall at midnight after Thanksgiving. It was funny because we would never buy anything, we would just walk around and complain about how cold we were. There was something about that day that would finally tell me I could be excited, my favorite season was finally upon us.<br />
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Christmas was always so special to me. More than I can even say. When you have a perfect family, perfect friends, basically a perfect life, Christmas just makes that all the more evident. It would be a time of happiness of joy, and all the other Christmas cliches. I would live for the smell of the pine tree, and the puzzles, and the holiday movies. I would live to find the perfect gifts, and to see their face when they opened it. I would live to feel alive.<br />
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That is all gone for me. The smell of the pine tree just burns the edges of hollow heart.<i> The pain inside just intensifies. </i><br />
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Not only do the memories burn, but the very holiday just seems childish. I look around at everyone and the looks in their eyes, the very look I exemplified for my whole life, and all I see is <i>greed</i>. Greed for presents, greed for a perfect life, and greed for status. It is a time that everyone strives to be perfect, and if you're not then get ready to throw the white cloth over your bones in the closet. It just makes me sick. Why is everyone so ashamed of their secrets? Why does everyone feel the need to hide them? And to judge others for the very same sin? I will be the very first to say that I am a dirty rotten sinner. I have messed up more times that I can count. But I also know that covering them up will not do anything. And yet I look around and see everyone hiding their wrong just to seem perfect, just to receive better presents. Maybe I am just ranting here but I am disgusted by the materialism I am surrounded by.<br />
<br />
My mom made a comment the other day that I thought was very fitting, "our circumstances just make everything we though so dear before seem- seem insignificant". I could not agree more.<br />
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Now I will be viewed as a grinch, because I am not excited to receive presents or relive past Christmases, but in some ways I look forward to this Christmas the most. I will truly be able, for the first time in my life, to look at Christmas not as a way to receive presents, but to rejoice in my saviors coming.</div>
Laura Sieverthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16405822298138343492noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3324410115344828056.post-68696165631765162092012-07-27T22:44:00.005-07:002013-03-06T13:53:09.239-08:00Laments of My Soul<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The laments of my soul</div>
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Are apparently too much to bear</div>
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My pain is private pain</div>
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Because no one seems to care</div>
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<br /></div>
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They say that God feels my pain</div>
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Then why doesn't he take it away</div>
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Doesn't he worry</div>
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That my faith is going astray</div>
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<br /></div>
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All areas of my life are being torn apart</div>
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everything's ripping at the seams</div>
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I mourn each and every day</div>
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For the loss of my once reachable dreams</div>
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<br /></div>
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My dreams of a happy future</div>
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Of a family so perfect</div>
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Now every time I put on a smile</div>
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My happiness is just counterfeit</div>
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<br /></div>
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Doesn't God want me to be happy</div>
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To find joy in my life</div>
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Now all joy does is mock me</div>
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And cause me so much strife</div>
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<br /></div>
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Everyone else is laughing</div>
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So why can't I</div>
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Water falls from my eyes</div>
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But my soul's river has run dirt dry</div>
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Laura Sieverthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16405822298138343492noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3324410115344828056.post-88668581096655612132012-07-27T22:41:00.001-07:002013-03-06T13:53:34.458-08:00College Essay - Pewaukee Triathlon<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9038997143507004" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"></b><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9038997143507004" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My stomach clenched as the butterflies settled in and made my stomach their home. Ten minutes until the first shot would ring and I was nowhere near ready, in fact I was weeks behind. Normal athletes train for this event for months, but I had signed up just a mere month and a half before July 8, race day. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Why am I doing this?</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I thought to myself, but the answer was on the tip of my tongue. My brother. Just the thought stung my eyes but there was no time for tears. I approached the front of the line. There was no turning back now. “GO!” the announcer shouted, and I plunged into the water. </span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9038997143507004" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Thirteen minutes of actively drowning passed and I emerged and sprinted to my bike. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A third of the way done</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, I thought, trying to encourage myself. My legs slowly took to a rhythm and I remembered why I love biking so much. I reached the 11 mile mark and felt good but I knew this feeling was going to end very shortly. I turned the corner and started biking right past my house. The memories flooded over me and were almost too much to bear. Memories of just one year ago when it was my brother in my place, and I was cheering from the sidelines. I pushed on. </span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9038997143507004" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After 58 minutes I had finished the bike and transitioned flawlessly into running. Each step toward the finish line became harder and harder both physically and emotionally. Eventually the finish line came into view and the cries of all of my supporters reached my ears. “Go Laura!” was repeated again and again as I crossed over the line. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is so wrong!</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I cried silently. I looked around and was met by so many declarations of pride over what I had just accomplished. “Laura, you just finished your first triathlon!” I smiled and nodded while the only words I could hear were those of my brother just four months before. “Laura, I am so proud of you. I always knew you could do it!”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9038997143507004" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I finally let myself think about what July 8th meant to me as I stood on the finish line. July 8th was not only the four month anniversary of my brother’s death, but also the day I pushed myself to accomplish one of his passions, a triathlon. That day I came to grips with the fact that my brother would never race again and took it upon myself to live the life that he couldn’t. I raced in honor of my brother and best friend, Patrick Sievert. </span></b></div>
</div>
Laura Sieverthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16405822298138343492noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3324410115344828056.post-81542262369979239352012-07-09T18:17:00.001-07:002013-03-06T13:53:58.441-08:00Distinguishing Frienships<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
One thing I have discovered through the past four months is that I have a lot of friends. But what I am just beginning to realize is that I have very few real friends. Before the accident there was little difference between the two, both were equally as important to me. My real friends were there for me through the hard stuff, and my accessory friends were there to keep me looking good and to have fun with.<br />
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I also had trouble distinguishing between the two. Every person was good for different things. I would go to this person for guy troubles and that other person for friend troubles, everyone had a role. I would classify each of these people as real friends. How naive was I. Now I have trouble filling even one hand with real friends. This is because my definition of real and even of friends have changed. I still value each person but I find every day another person leaves my life and goes from the status of real to accessory.<br />
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Last week all I wanted was for someone to say "Laura, how are you?" and not just to be polite. I needed someone to seek me out to want to spend time with me but not just to distract me. I have way too many distraction friends but hardly any friends that will be there with me even through the tears. It has now been four months and the tears surprise people, even those that were closest to me. People don't understand that it is going to take more than four months for me to heal and to be normal. My friends want the old Laura back but the sad realization is that she is never coming back. I have changed, and it is permanent. I will be forever different but I need friends that will be okay with that and embrace it.<br />
<br />
But now I have a dilemma. Some friends I just don't want to lose. Two of my closest friends barely even talked to me for a month after school ended and every day that passed was a new struggle for me. The sad part is that I understand. I understand that they are 16 and don't want to have to deal with this. The pain of death is new and strong every day and it can be overwhelming. I understand why they left. But I needed them not to. Their words "Laura we will be here with you for the long run. We know people will leave your life because of this pain but we will be here with you, to cry and to laugh," hurts me more every single day knowing that it was all lies. Now I have two options: 1) to call them out on it and to express how much they hurt me every single day or 2) lose them, just as I have been doing for the past month. There are problems with both. The problem with calling them out on it is that it will be a pity friendship. The only reason why they will come around will be because they caused a grieving girl even more grief. I don't want a pity friendship in the least bit. But the problem with the other option is that they have been my closest friends for minimum of a year, one of the girls has been for three. I miss them, a lot. I need someone that will know without me having to tell them that it is a rough day and will be there for me even when I can't get out of bed it hurts so bad, even though that is not fun in the least bit.<br />
<br />
As for now I feel alone. I am surrounded by people when I'm doing okay but when I'm not they all suddenly vanish. I walk through the darkness with fewer and fewer people by my side as the journey becomes longer. My heart breaks every day as everybody's life moves on, and mine can't. </div>
Laura Sieverthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16405822298138343492noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3324410115344828056.post-73510543846499053782012-06-30T07:40:00.002-07:002013-03-06T13:51:06.574-08:00Life is a series of tragedies...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The days and nights directly after the accident are a completely blur to me. All I remember is people swarming my house wanting to show their sympathy. There were people I've never seen before of my mother's friends and even my friends from years ago showed up. It was a strange time. That time would've been happy if not for the circumstances. I can just imagine my mother going into her host mode that suits her so well. I can imagine my father, as the night wore on, getting more and more exhausted and the sure signs that this was not his cup of tea appearing. I can imagine my feeling of contentment, knowing that life couldn't get any better. But there is this funny thing about imagination, it creates a world that can only exist in one's fantasies. Instead it was a much different scene. My mother had women surrounding her doing the things that mom normally would've never have let them do. Her role of host was torn down and the only thing she knew how to do was to let others love on her. My father had given up all shreds of superficial conversation and all things demanded by our society as considered "polite". He had abandoned trying to make small talk and holed up in his room until everyone eventually left, which turned out to be days after. I remember my aunt and uncle were sitting on the couch laughing at a joke my aunt made and my father turned and looked at me with tears in his eyes, "How can they be laughing? Laughing!" as he returned to his room. And finally me...the feeling of contentment had long deserted me and left me feeling utter despair. I didn't know what to do or how to feel but one thing was for certain, I felt alone and scared. The ironic thing about that was I was never alone. My friends rotated sleeping over every night so I wouldn't have to sleep alone. They would be there when I woke up sobbing in the middle of the night to just hold me. But even through all that, the feeling of being alone was so very present. In those days and nights life could not get any worse. I went from being on top of the world to barely even wanting to be part of the world. The other day I went with my adventure gym class to Lapham Peak. Lapham Peak is the place Patrick and I spent hours training for our birkie, so it held many memories for me. "It's hard knowing that the last time I was here...I was happy," I told my friend. "You're not happy now?" The answer came easily, "No."<br />
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My cousin, last week, said something that stuck with me..."Life is just a series of tragedies, and joy is what you feel in between them." I guess I just have to hold on until I am able to feel joy again, however long that might be. </div>
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Laura Sieverthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16405822298138343492noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3324410115344828056.post-22553162712647335302012-06-16T13:29:00.000-07:002013-03-06T13:50:34.731-08:00Sadness is a Mountain<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Sadness is a mountain<br />
The cliffs, the crevasses, the rocks<br />
You are launched into a long adventure <br />
Like a boat departing from the docks<br />
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There are times when it seems possible<br />
The lush grass and prairie flowers<br />
But then other times when the rocks form a cliff<br />
And the heavens decide to send down showers<br />
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You never knows what you are going to find<br />
A ray of sunshine on a stormy day<br />
Yet most of the time it seems like a wall<br />
Like being miles away from the bay<br />
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The wall blocks out the sun<br />
And the snow is all around<br />
You forget what happiness feels like<br />
A person who has been last yet never found <br />
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You mourn the life you had before<br />
When the mountain hadn't even crossed your mind<br />
The memories haunt your day and night<br />
Like a man whose eyes became blind<br />
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Your heart aches for the day when you reach the top<br />
And can squint to see the end<br />
Your journey is only half way done<br />
Yet your life is on the mend<br />
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Until then you have to keep going<br />
Even though the mountain seems to loom above<br />
You have to tell yourself the pain will decrease<br />
And in the end, the hurt is worth the love <br />
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Laura Sieverthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16405822298138343492noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3324410115344828056.post-34446149782950208592012-06-12T10:14:00.002-07:002012-06-12T10:14:53.369-07:00The Brady Bunch<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My house was a very peaceful and rational house. My friends would come over and would be so shocked at how chill everything is. They would call my family the Brady Bunch. I once was pulling in our Lexus into the garage and I pulled in too sharp and pretty much scraped the whole side of the car (it looked worse than it was). And my mother comes out and takes one look at the car and turns to me and says,<i> "So what happened to the car?" "Umm well I kind of turned too sharp into the garage and it scraped the car." "Ya I'd say. Well get to work. You better hope the paint comes off."</i> and heads back inside. There was no yelling or fighting. We are very level headed in my family, but that changed when Patch died. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When a tragedy happens, people change. Anger that is directed at the situation can sometimes be directed at the wrong subjects. It's just one more thing that I have to get used to, not that I am not at fault myself either. Sometimes I will just be short and quick with my mother even when she has done absolutely nothing at all. I find that I have to walk around on tiptoes in my house sometimes because even the littlest of things can be blown out of proportion because one is feeling emotional that day. It is very hard balancing my family. Right after the accident my dad sat us all down and said with tears in his eyes, "We have to stick together. It is going to be tough but we need each other." The gap in my heart is never more evident than when I am with my family. My family has two families within it, the large family and the small. The large family is when it was all 6 of us, and the small family was when it was just my parents, Patrick, and I because Beth and Dan were away at college. Both were so precious to me, but there was just something about the small family. We were so happy and so complete. Our family dinners would last for hours because we got along so well and could make each other laugh. The other day I went to church with my parents and it felt so wrong, just like everything else in my life. Patrick should have been there and he would've been there. The Brady Bunch is torn apart and I find myself watching the reruns and mourning how perfect it was without me even realizing.</div>
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Classic Action Shot with the Sieverts</div>
</div>Laura Sieverthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16405822298138343492noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3324410115344828056.post-86009216504373911092012-06-06T16:01:00.000-07:002012-06-07T18:10:33.479-07:00Holding Me Tightly<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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There are times when God just astounds me. This is one of those times. The other day I was reading in my prayer journal from last July (almost a year ago), and my ignorance astounded me. I had no idea what I was saying. I was so neive and whiny! I literally struggled with every small thing in my life until I had completely exhausted the topic. I didnt realize that my life was perfect, well as close as it could be. If I were God i would be so darn sick of me, I definitely was when reading it. But then i came across this entry from August 19, 2011. It is such a blessing to me now because it shows me how much my father loves me.<br />
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<i>...I guess that shows me how content I am with the unknown. Not very! I want in all circumstances to bless Your name. Last night I tried to say, "do what you want with my family" but i could not bring myself to do it because I thought You were going to kill one of them, i know that sounds ridiculous. I was really struggling with the phrase"You give and You take away, may the name of the Lord be praised." I still am. I know it's not going to be easy but help me to be okay with that! I need you Lord....</i></div>
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then to the side it says...</div>
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<i>You are strong enough. Your father holds you tightly.</i></div>
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The first time reading this I broke down into tears, but these were different tears than the past 90 days. These were tears knowing that I will get through this because my father is holding me tightly. The feeling of comfort was so foreign to me. God has been preparing me for that day, because "I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength" (Philippians 4:13). After the initial shock I started thinking about the side comment, "You are strong enough. Your father holds you tightly". Just even the fact that it was there is a mystery. It is not my handwriting, whatsoever. And no one reads my journal. Up until the moment I brought it out to read (I put it away for two and a half months after the accident because I could not bear the thought of writing out my prayers to God) it was shoved under papers and books. There is no way that someone would have found it unless looking. I asked everyone that it could have been and nobody had the slightest clue what I was talking about. After a while I came up with a conclusion, it's a God thing. </div>
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Last year that would have been my first conclusion. But over the past year, especially over the past 3 months I have become pretty skeptical. I have run away from the signs long enough though. This outpouring of love from friends and family has been incredible, and all of the random signs like the one in my journal have pointed me to the obvious fact, my God loves me and he is holding me tightly. </div>
</div>Laura Sieverthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16405822298138343492noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3324410115344828056.post-27815809341341747832012-06-05T22:25:00.000-07:002012-06-07T18:07:41.506-07:00Nightmares<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Late nights are never, ever good for me. I have the worst immune system in the world. Its 12:30 a.m. and I am blogging (not to mention i have a final tomorrow)?? Some would call me stupid, but its my way to survive. Three months ago sleep was the most precious thing to me. Getting 8 hours a night was a top priority, sometimes i even worked in 9 (i know, call me crazy). But just like everything else, that has changed. I don't sleep, and when I do I have nightmares. Sometimes they are classic nightmares and other times they are relating to Patrick<br />
Here are 2 dreams in just the past week (a week in my life):<br />
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<b>Classic Nightmare</b><br />
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The setting takes place in medieval times (yes i was in a gown like one of those princess movies). Everything was going great. The kingdom was running smoothly and I had control over everything. Then the monster came. For those of you that have seen harry potter it was a mix of a basilisk and the monster things in the Avengers, except it was pitch black. This thing was ruthless. All it did for days was haunt my kingdom looking for anyone out in the open for it to pray on. And death by this monster was not a pleasant thing, it involved crushing bones until one died of pain. Every time it flew over, one would have to find something to hide under so it wouldn't see him. But it kept getting smarter and I kept having to run faster and hide quicker. It was one of those dreams that one is constantly running and constantly in fear. Overall exhausting. Except the worst part of the dream was the end. I was given the task to find Patrick and save him from this monster. This was my only and last task, if i couldn't fulfill it then i was a failure and didn't deserve to live. I kept running, yelling out his name, but I could not find him. I looked over the whole kingdom and was getting more and more frantic. My last moment in that dream was realizing that the monster had gotten him, and wishing it was me instead. </div>
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<b>Patrick Dream:</b></div>
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Patrick and I were playing Frisbee in the yard. I had a moment where my heart was completely happy and I thought that was my life and my reality was the nightmare. It was wonderful, except the part where I had to realize that it was just a dream. But this one did not stay happy. This car pulled up and out came two men. They started chasing us, and we ran. Patch was naturally faster than me seeing that he was incredibly fit and I started falling behind. These men had this weapon that shot out bullets but once the bullet penetrated your skin there was no saving you, you would die a slow painful death. They were getting closer and closer to me but I could not run any faster. I was willing Patch to get away but instead he looked back. He had a look of intense love on his face before diving at me. I had no idea what he was doing. <i>No Patch</i>, I thought, <i>we are supposed to be running away from them. Tackling me will not help! </i>But i didn't realize he was diving in back of me. I looked back at him and realized he just took a bullet, for me. My heart screamed in pain, knowing what he just did. The men vanished and I held my brother as he died, again. Tears were streaming down my face as I told him I loved him. <i>No patch...you cant leave me! Not again! I can't do this again...why would you do that?? </i>But his face portrayed that he knew what he was doing, and he would do it a million times just to save me. I held my brothers dead body in my arms and just cried. The weird part about the bullet was that I couldn't be with the body for long. It would decompose the body and those around it. Walking away was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, and it was just a dream. Seeing him there alone, without even a burial killed me. Although I already died inside when he did (its funny how similar dreams can be to real life). Three days later I get a phone call. It was from a couple that owned a house near the spot he got shot. I answered the phone and they explained who they were. Then the screaming started. "How could you do that to your brother?? You say you loved him? Please, that's not love. You are an awful sister. All he ever did was love you and you repay him like this?! And then leaving him?! Despicable." I ended the dream in tears and woke up with tears. A never ending cycle of pain. </div>
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The worst part about the whole thing, I think, is that sometimes I don't mind the nightmares. Just for the beginning. It always starts out Patch and I, just like the last 16 years of my life. For just a short time everything seems normal and happy. I get to talk to him again and hear his voice. I am 10 times more scared of the day that I cant remember his voice than a night of nightmares. My biggest fear: forgetting a single thing about my brother...</div>
</div>Laura Sieverthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16405822298138343492noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3324410115344828056.post-66210342984033837472012-06-05T14:15:00.000-07:002012-06-07T05:41:33.749-07:00Plunging Into the Darkness<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>"The quickest way for anyone to reach the sun and the light of day is not to run west, chasing after the setting sun, but to head east, plunging into the darkness until one comes to the sunrise."</i></span></div>
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Plunging into the darkness....scariest 4 words of my life! The past 89 days have pushed me further and further from the setting sun and the pain is becoming deeper and deeper. March 8, 2012 my life changed forever.<br />
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My best friend/brother died.<br />
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I have struggled with how to express my emotions over this loss and I have come up empty. When someone suggested a blog I hated the idea. I hated the idea that people would be reading what I had to say, that they would somehow know what was going through my head. But I have exhausted all my other options. This blog will be my journey through my never ending process of healing and discovering God's grace anew each and every day.<br />
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I find that I encounter new obstacles constantly; my heartache over Patrick, learning to live my new life without him, struggling not to be mad at God, and dealing with those around me. Things that seemed easy before are now the biggest of challenges. Just 5 minutes ago my iTunes was on shuffle and a song came on that haunted me with memories of Patrick and myself and I was paralyzed for a full 2 minutes with pain. Nothing is easy now. Nothing.<br />
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I was happy just 3 months ago. I had everything. Then it all changed and there is no going back. The healing process is long and painful but I have to face the darkness so I can one day see a sunrise again...that is my one and only prayer for today and for the many months and years to come.</div>
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</div>Laura Sieverthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16405822298138343492noreply@blogger.com0