Photogenic: Day 28

I'm finally making my rounds to all the appointments I've delayed since my seizures started. 

One of my most memorable ones was October 2013 as I was driving to my dentist appointment. I arrived a bit confused and in a pre-seizure aura state. My new hygienist sensed something was off when I didn't answer her "how are you" question quite right. 

As she took me back to the room, she told me she was also a registered nurse and that she was going to have me rest a bit and if I still felt funny, she'd take care of it. (Call 911)

So today, that same hygienist took me back to do my health review and she remembered that day with me. She was pretty shocked by all that I had been through since then. I don't talk about Jeff to people, especially people I don't know, but today I mentioned to her that I lost my brother 8 months ago. I surprised myself. 

Then she surprised me. 

"I lost my brother too. 52 years old. Massive heart attack." Tears filled her eyes as she went on to say that her big brother passed just one day after their family had all gathered together to celebrate their parents' 60th wedding anniversary. They were all on vacation together and he died in his sleep.  

We sat there in knowing silence together for a moment. 

Then she said what I always think. 

"People have told me they have lost siblings, and I just have never thought about it, but now. It's really hard, isn't it? No one really talks about this, do they? "

We both relayed our mutual thoughts, and shared our hearts right there in the dental exam room while waiting for the dentist to come in. 

Before I left, she approached me and asked if she could hug me. Of course I agreed! She told me I made her feel so much better. Her brother has been gone for 3 years and mine for 8 months, but for both of us it feels like only yesterday. 

The one thing I said to her was that our brothers were healed now and that we were the broken ones. The pain we feel is for us and not for them. Each day we spend on earth is just one day closer to the day we get to see them again. 

And no, it doesn't make any sense. No sense at all. And we're mad some days, sad every day. Confused. And we won't "get over it." Ever. Grief is for as long as we are alive, though mourning may end. 

The job for others? Love. 

Thank you, God, for love in a dentist's chair.