Friday, January 18, 2013

A Formative Part of My Journey

****Warning, this will not be a particularly cheery post. It's about death mostly. You've been warned.
My life has been shaped by death from the beginning. The week before I was born my aunt Bobbie--my mother's oldest sister--died after a long battle with breast cancer. She left behind 6 children. My family travelled a long distance to the town she lived in for the wake and funeral, and then when they came home Mom went into labor. I know my birth, though it brought her great and true joy, is also mixed up with her grief over losing her sister. I'm not sure it can be categorized as an auspicious start.
During a conversation with some friends yesterday I started thinking. I'm not sure why, but it seems I have been exposed to more death and loss than many people my age in this country and I wanted to write about it. I'm going to start with a depressing list, and see where it leads me. It is by no means exhaustive, as I am going to try to stick with events about which I have strong memories and emotions.

  • When I was 8 there was a boy in my class named Chaz. He was incredibly tall--5'2" and very kind. I didn't know him well but a close family friend was very close friends with him so we played together occasionally. That summer he was hit by a car and killed in a family member's yard (his family member, not mine). It was a pretty big deal in our little town and my friend J--his close friend--was deeply grieved. This is my first clear memory of loss, though I know I lost several extended family members prior to this time. 
  • When I was 12 my friend J(the same J as above) lost his mother, Eve, to a rare blood disorder. I don't really know what to say about it all, except that I can remember J didn't cry, and verbally expressed his refusal to do so. My mother and brother K were both very distraught on his behalf and the extremity of their grief frightened me. I specifically chose not to attend the funeral because my Dad couldn't come and I was afraid I wouldn't know what to do to comfort them. 
  • When I was about 13, Brenda, the girl who lived at the end of our road was killed in a horrific car crash right in front of her house. Her car was struck by an oncoming semi and caught fire. Our house was more than a mile away over hilly, wooded land. Despite the distance and terrain we could see the flames from our yard. Her father and several neighbors saw it happen, but were powerless to reach her because of the fire. I remember it was so crowded that 2 of my brothers and I had to sit in the basement of the church for the funeral while our parents were upstairs with my youngest brother K because he was a pall bearer. He was 16. I remember sitting in a room full of my future high school teachers, again unsure of the proper response to so many authority figures in my life all weeping together. The spanish teacher told me I was very strong because I ended up sitting at a separate table from my brothers by myself and didn't fall apart. Brenda was about 17. I don't think I have ever seen her mother ever since without seeing her cry.
  • 2 years later 2 boys from my high school died in a car wreck caused by their own drunk driving. Tom & John were popular, kind, funny, and talented. The week of their funerals my brother K also refused to cry. I remember seeing probably half our school sobbing into his shoulders for days. One night he couldn't bear it any more and wept almost hysterically for what seemed like hours. My Dad sat with him the whole time holding him and speaking calmly in a low voice, like he'd done when K was small and had nightmares or fever-induced hallucinations. At that point in time K and Dad could barely stand to spend 5 minutes in the same room without having a shouting match. But not that night. 
  • At least 4 other kids died in our small town during my middle and high school years. 2 of cancer, 1 of a heart defect, 1 in another car accident. I think I'm forgetting someone, but none of them were people I was particularly close to; I list them because I've been told this is a high number of child deaths for 1 community. I also know numerous other family members passed on during this time, most notably my maternal grandmother and 2 of my great aunts who I dearly loved. But I remember their wakes and funerals being very different than those of my friends and classmates. Grandma and Aunt Virgie and Aunt Marie were old, and had been sick for extended periods of time. Their deaths seemed more "natural" to me, and less scary. 
  • In college a friend committed suicide. He was a beautiful young man. H was strong, funny, compelling in a strange way I cannot describe but everyone who met him understood. He was also secretly struggling with depression of some kind. What I remember most about losing H is that there were times I'd noticed he seemed "off" or lonely and I never said anything. H claimed he didn't believe in God and hated church, and he was really really "cool". He was also my boyfriend's best friend. I didn't want to embarass myself reaching out to him. Even when I was sure God wanted me to do it. I was too scared of what he might think of me. He died shortly after the boyfriend and I broke up and it was all just really painful and tragic. I've tried to never forget my horror at never knowing if my obedience to God's prompting might have helped him. It keeps me honest.
  • When I was 24 my husband showed up at my job unexpectedly one Friday morning. He told me my oldest brother B had just called to tell him my Dad died. I've written about that other places, and I don't think I can do so again just now. But it shaped me. 
*******Sidebar. At this point in the post I've had to take a break from weepy remembering to deal with Pixie wetting Kid's bed during her nap and Sunshine somehow getting poop on her arm during her post nap diaper change. The juxtaposition of these events with my emotional state is so absurd, I had to include them****

I'm not sure what the purpose of this post was, or is, even should be; but I do know these people and the loss of each of them has shaped my life and how I see the world. And after reading this post about one of the Connecticut shooting victims and his mother, I wanted to be sure I made a point to stop and remember. I've never lost a full term, outside my womb child and I hope I won't. But as a mother, I stand with Noah's mother and promise to remember that everyone was once someone's little boy or girl. And to hide from the pain and awful-ness may do them and me a disservice.

And I will offer this list, as complete as I can make it, of those I've lost and won't forget.
Chaz, Eve, Grandma Hadley, Virg, Marie, Cousin John, Cousin Dennis, Jim L, Jim M, Anne, Mary Catherine, Leona, Stephen, Margaret, Brenda, Tom, John, Heather, Tony, Kevin, Tammy, Elna, Carl, Craig, Hans, Marv, Wyburn, Robbie, Rich, Dale, Kenneth, Mary, Rachel, Maurice, Margaret H, Mira, Declan, & Paul.

I will remember you. Always.

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