Yesterday, I had the most traumatic experience of my life, identifying my brother’s body after the motor vehicle accident that killed him last week. I knew it would be traumatic but I didn’t want my parents to have to do it. While it was the most horrific thing I’ve ever had to do, it was in some strange way also brought closure.
Our Bodies Are A Vessel
We all know this right? On a superficial level, we all know that our bodies are just the shells that house our souls. Kind of like hermit crabs, that abandon the shell they no longer need when it’s time to move on.
But I didn’t fully comprehend on a conscious level what this meant until I saw my brother’s body yesterday. When they pulled back the blind for me to identify him, I was wholly unprepared for the sight that would greet me and it’s not because his face was severely damaged from the accident, it wasn’t. It was just not him. It was a shell. An empty vessel. I had to look at individual features to identify him because if I looked at the face staring back at me, it wasn’t him. He was gone. The very essence of who he was, was simply no longer there. He has moved on, like a hermit crab, he had abandoned his shell.
There Is Acceptance In Seeing The Body
I know that must sound so horrifically morbid but it’s true. After I got over the shock of seeing my brother’s empty vessel, it’s like something in my brain clicked and my mind was able to accept that he is gone so the denial phase of my grief seems to have passed now. I know he’s gone, I’ve accepted he is gone and he is not coming back.
Identifying the body of a loved one is still not something I’d ever want anyone to have to go through. It will remain as one of the most traumatic experiences of my life. I will forever be haunted by what I saw there, but I am glad that through that shocking experience, I am able to also find some peace.
I am determined to have restoration with my brother in his death. I will honour his life and the relationship I wish we’d had by talking about him, by doing the hard things, like identifying his body and speaking as his memorial, and by caring for our elderly parents.
My brother just know that no matter how hard our relationship was, you are loved. By me.
I blog because writing helps me grieve.
Sharon, I’m so sorry for your loss. As you know, I’ve also had the terrible experience of identifying the body of my father after his murder, and like you, I wanted to spare my mom from it. It felt like I owed it to my dad to do this thing of identifying him in this horrible place. My experience was exactly the same as yours. What lay there on that trolley was not my dad, it was something he used to inhabit. I wish you strength over the coming months, you will weave in and out of the stages of grief at unexpected moments. Pain, laughter, anger, sadness, nothing. Nobody can guide you through this, it will be your journey alone. But your loved ones can support you and love you and allow you to fall apart so that you can slowly but surely put yourself back together again. You will never “get over” it, but you will live again. You’ll be a different you though xxxx