Death and Life

June is an odd month for me. There's a lot to celebrate as it's one of my younger brother's birthday month, my birthday month, my boyfriend and his sister's birthday month and Father's Day. There's a lot of joy in there but then there are things that were life changing events that make it a harder month to get through emotionally and mentally.

June 9th is one of my younger brother's birthday. It also unfortunately is the day our grandfather passed away. Yesterday was the 4th year since he passed and my brother's 29th birthday. 

The last several years of my brother's life, I've always felt a little guilty because I want my brother to have an amazing day on his birthday, as people should. But I also still get so sad on that day because I miss my grandfather a lot. And I know it's something that weighs on him as well and that sucks. I also understand how much it sucks to lose someone you care for on a day that's supposed to be a damn good one to celebrate life and love and the people in your life. I digress. 

I was lucky to have someone so great that's worth missing so much be such a big part of my life because not everyone's fortunate to have a pair of kick ass grandparents. At the same time, it makes it hurt that much more because losing someone you have a close relationship with sucks. Even if you're a little happy to see them go because you know their pain and suffering is now over and who doesn't want that for a person they love?

Last year on June 13th, my friend Amanda committed suicide. June 15th is my birthday and that also happens to be the day we found out that she had committed suicide. I've been thinking about her a lot lately. In part, because it's hard not to think about it considering my birthday celebration last year ended with me laying in bed only to find she'd been found dead in her ex's kitchen shortly after I'd laid down. Also because it's coming up on that one year and people have been posting things to her Facebook wall. Poems, art, random thoughts, prayers and various other things. All things she'll never see or read but things that make the person posting them feel connected still, in some way. Or maybe it just makes them feel better in another way. I don't judge because I can't bring myself to delete messages from her and can't remove her from my Facebook feed even though I'll never be able to talk to her again. 

Her death was, in several ways, harder to deal with. My grandfather had Alzheimer's (which is what got me into doing the Alzheimer's Walks and fundraising for the Alz Association) and he was sick for quite a while before he finally couldn't fight anymore. Amanda, I didn't see that coming because you rarely ever see suicide coming. I had plans to see her and hang out the following weekend. I went to her funeral that day instead, which wasn't the way I wanted to spend time with her.

It wasn't the first friend I'd lost like this but it's not something that gets easier. It's hard and you go through so many emotions. I still occasionally get so goddamn mad at her for being gone and then a few minutes later I'm crying because I just miss her and wish I could split fajitas and some margaritas. I know it won't be as bad this year as it was last year, though. I won't be shocked and devastated because she's already gone. And as hard as it is to cope with death, it does get easier the more time passes by.

My grandfather's death was the first death I'd gone through that was someone I was truly close to. I feel guilty saying that because I'd lost other friends and relatives that I honestly didn't know that well before him. Those deaths sucked in different ways but his was the first one that was heartbreaking and devastating for me. I kept having people telling me it would get easier the more time that went by and after that first year, I really understood that nothing would be as awful as the first year of adjusting to the fact that he was gone. There were so many things that I didn't realize would hurt that did. Not needing birthday cards or father's day cards for him anymore. Not needing to buy a present for him at the holidays. Addressing Christmas cards solely to my grandmother and not to both of them. Changing the name in my cell phone from "Grandpa & Grandma" to just "Grandma." Watching a basketball game and remembering the reason I even like watching basketball is because I used to watch it with him and got into it because of him. Tons of little things that never even crossed my mind but felt like punches right to the gut. Now, after several years, moments like that happen few and very far in between.

With both of them, I think I thought it would stop hurting much more immediately than it did despite really knowing better. Maybe I naively hoped I could get passed it and be okay faster than I really did.  Like it couldn't possibly keep being painful year after X amount of time because at some point, you're obviously going to realize you've cried all your tears and had all of your sad moments. Then you could just think fondly of them and remember happy times and feel gratitude at the time you had with them and nothing will hurt anymore because it's been long enough. That's a really nice thought but it's not realistic and that realization sucks. There isn't a "long enough" and another realization that this one brought on is that that's okay, too. It's okay to cry and miss them and hurt. As long as you're not dwelling there and do remember all the good, it's okay to not be okay after you lose someone you love. It's okay to not be okay sometimes even after it's been a while. There's no time limit and no reason to feel guilty or ashamed over how you feel.

It Can Get Better....

**Trigger warning: suicide**

My mom's birthday was yesterday. I realized last night that I had several more people to get birthday cards for in the next few months. My sister's birthday is next month, my dad's is in December, my youngest brother's is in January and I have a small handful of friends and a couple coworkers all with birthdays coming up in the next few months. I got the clever idea that I should make a quick list so as not to forget anyone and then go buy all the cards I need for the next few months all at once so I don't have to run to the store in the name of birthday cards nine times over the next few months. I also wouldn't have to worry about having to run out last minute in case I ended up losing track of the days and then remembering, "hey I need to send so-and-so a card because they're birthday is two days away!"

So I got my list together, double checked to make sure I wasn't forgetting anyone I planned on sending one to and then set off to get what I needed.

I love sending cards and letters. I'm one of those weird people that still enjoys hand writing out letters and thank you notes and sending them off in the mail. I almost always write an extra little note inside of cards I send because there's almost always something missing that I want said in whatever card I find. 

Sometimes, I hate looking through cards, though. Sometimes, I'm looking through cards looking for a specific one. In this instance, the birthday card for my sister. Then it springs to mind that, hey, Amanda's birthday is the same day as my sisters is! I think for a second I need to get her one too and then I remember that no, no I don't need to get her one because she's been dead since she killed herself this passed June. And then I'm standing in Hallmark with tears rushing down my face while I stand in front of a row of cards that I can't really see anymore. I'm sad and I'm crying and I'm trying to stop and I feel so grateful I have on a hat that covers half of my face and relieved the ladies in that store leave you alone unless you need their help and angry at myself for breaking down in public and sad again all because I can't buy my friend a birthday card because she's gone. 

So I leave without getting anything because I can't stop crying and I don't like to cry in public. I don't like to cry in front of people I know. Mostly I don't want to make a scene and don't want to explain to strangers why I'm standing in Hallmark with tears rushing down my face and I needed quiet and solitude to get myself calmed down again. So I sit in my car for 10 minutes. I think about just driving the four minutes back to my apartment but I'm stubborn and want to get what I came out for. I feel like I'm letting myself down if I go home, letting my emotions and anxieties chase me back home without completing a task. I don't want to let these things rule me, so I don't. I'm fine. So, I let myself finish crying until it doesn't feel like there's a gaping hole in the my stomach. I open my door and splash my face with water from a bottled water I had with me. I turn on some loud rock music and I take some long, deep, calming breaths and then I'm fine again. I go back in, get an odd look from the lady at the counter and I smile and she does a strange little head bow and smiles at me as I get back to buying cards. 

Suicide is hard. Death is hard enough on it's own but suicide makes something hard and makes it even harder to cope with. You're in denial because no, no, no, my friend/loved one is fine and would never do that. Even if they weren't fine, this can't be right because they wouldn't kill themselves. They have friends, they have families, they seem happy and content with life. Or they're struggling but they have family and friends and people that care about them, people that love them, people that would do anything within their power to move the whole fucking Earth to make things better or at least more bearable. There's no way they would do that. You'd know, you'd be able to tell, right? Right? Wrong. 

You wonder why they would've done this. You don't understand. Amanda didn't leave any kind of note explaining anything. From what I've come to understand, most whom commit suicide don't leave any kind of thought out note explaining or saying goodbye. The hardest part with reaching acceptance of their death is accepting that you'll just have to accept that they're gone without understanding why they took their life.

I cried a lot in June after Amanda's death. News of her suicide came just a few hours after I'd gotten home from celebrating my birthday and Father's Day with my family and boyfriend. I was having a party the following weekend that she was going to attend. I struggled a lot the first few weeks. Then I cried less. Then I didn't cry at all. Then the realization I wouldn't need to buy her a birthday card and wouldn't have to worry about getting her a gift for the awesome birthday party that was planned months in advance was the first time I'd cried over her death since the first week in September.

I don't know if she thought death would be easier. I don't know if she couldn't bear the thought of living life anymore after the events that lead up to her taking her life. I don't know if she was thinking her kids would be better off. I don't know if she just panicked. I don't know if thought and planning went into it. I don't know if she was just that depressed. I don't know if any of the things that I've turned over in my head after her death were thoughts she had or not. 

I do know that suicide isn't the answer. I'm not just speaking as someone that has lost someone to suicide, or someone that has lost two people she cared deeply for to suicide but also as someone who has thought about it and fought through depression more than once. 

I stood on a bridge once when I was 17 and thought about climbing the rails and jumping. I stood there, running my hands over the cold metal and looking down into the waters below me and thought I could just climb over, jump and nothing would hurt anymore. I've always loved bodies of water; they're calming to me. I leaned over the railing, listening to waves crashing and water churning and I felt like pushing myself over it and letting myself drown would be the most fitting way for me to go. I remember thinking it like it was the most logical thing in the world because at the time, I was a mess and just didn't want to live anymore. I was about to climb the rail when a cop car pulled up and the officer got out slowly, calling out to me. I remember how slowly he approached me, how soothing he sounded and how angry I instantly became because I knew he was ruining everything for me. It was late at night and he was curious why a young girl was out so late, by herself, hanging out on the bridge. I knew he knew what I was thinking of doing and he stood there with me, asking me if my family knew where I was at this hour. He made a few jokes and told me I needed to get on home. He followed me as I left. He followed me and made sure I actually went back home. I cried myself to sleep that night because I was so angry and sad and hurt. I cried until I couldn't breath anymore, my face buried in a pillow, my fists clenched and punching the mattress. 

I decided then I couldn't commit suicide. Not because I suddenly wanted to live but because I couldn't do that to my family. I couldn't hurt them that way and I resented them for that. So, my depression got worse, I started drinking more and doing drugs a lot more. I smoked weed and took Xanax I got from a coworker as often as I could. I moved out and moved in with a friend who was a drug addict himself. We had neighbors who were big partiers. I did more drugs. I drank way more. I didn't want to kill myself anymore because I spent so much time high so I wouldn't hurt anymore. Until I came down, felt worse and wanted to die all over again. It was the worst cycle in the world.

I contemplated suicide occasionally still but then I'd just get high or take a few drinks from a bottle and I'd feel "better" again and then I wouldn't think about how I wanted to die anymore. Then one day, I met this guy. He was waiting in an office with me to do a job interview and I remember we were sitting there together, not saying much at all, then he suddenly looked at me and asked, "so why are you so sad?" I remember blinking at this guy a half dozen times trying to figure out what his deal was. He shrugged and said, "I'm a mess, I guess I recognize it in others." I just shrugged. Then this guy starts telling me that he applied for this job because he was starting over. He told me he had been really depressed and had tried to kill himself. He told me he had tried to jump off of a bridge but had figured it wrong and ended up landing wrong, breaking both of his legs instead. He was recovered and it would be the first job he'd had in a while because of that. He waited for me to talk. I just stared at him, goosebumps on my skin, not really capable of saying anything even if I had wanted to. This kid jumped from the same bridge I had only months ago contemplated hurling myself over. I've never believed in coincidences but I couldn't figure this out. We both ended up getting hired and we started working together a week later. He only worked there for six weeks but in that six weeks, he talked to me a lot about suicide and depression. It took me about a month to realize I didn't really want to die anymore. Not just because I didn't want to hurt my family but for a ton of other reasons. I don't even remember his name. I wish I could because I wish I could tell him thank you for saving me from myself. It sounds cliche but I was planning on trying again. I was trying to figure out ways I could do something to where it seemed like an accident and not suicide. My family would still be hurt but it wouldn't be as bad as losing someone to suicide. In the weeks I worked with that guy, he spent a lot of time talking at me, even though I often didn't say anything back to him at all. Then one night, I remember getting high with my then boyfriend and then sobbing into his shirt because I didn't want to die. I remember telling him everything and all he did was hold me while I ugly sobbed and came undone. I stopped thinking I'd be better off dead. Unfortunately it took quite a while longer to stop using drugs to get me through the day. It took years before I stopped abusing substances to make myself feel "better" but I got there, eventually. 

That was the first period of my life where I very seriously considered suicide a viable option and unfortunately, it wasn't the last. However, I'm still here and suicide is not something I entertain the idea of anymore. Currently, I'm struggling with issues that I'm not really ready to openly talk about here yet. I'm not ashamed of them and I'm not too scared to discuss them. I'm just not ready to put it all out there. I feel like when I understand it all better, I'll be more willing to discuss it in a more open venue.

Some days I think about the periods in my life where I thought I should just kill myself and I'd like to punch that silly girl. I'd also like to hug her and let her know how much strength she really had despite how pathetic and weak she thought she was. 

It can get better. Some days, it will suck. Some days, it feels like everything is wrong. Like nothing you do is right. Like nothing is moving forward in a better direction. Those days happen and you can't beat yourself up over them. You can't get stuck in those days.

No matter how alone you feel or how much you feel like absolutely no one in the world could possibly care or understand what you're going through, you are not alone. There are people out there who will understand or at least try to understand. There are people out there who will offer you empathy and support because they genuinely want you to feel better. Those people could be friends, family members, professional health care workers, a trusted co-worker, someone in an online support group or a stranger on the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline. Hell, you can email me and I'll talk to you. Just talk to someone. Suffering in silence doesn't help. You deserve better than that. You're worth more than that. 

Getting help doesn't make you weak. You don't have to be ashamed or afraid. You're not wrong. You're not broken. You're not beyond repair. Your mental illness and issues do not define who you are as a person. Whatever you're facing, it can get better.

I just need to get this out.

Sometimes you find yourself in a bad place without realizing immediately how you got there. Which seems like a weird thing for a moderately self-aware person. Shouldn't you realize that you're on a decline? That you're slipping further away from the people and things that make your life a bearable and better place? Maybe it should be easier to see but that's not the way it always is. Sometimes people are really good at hiding it. Sometimes people don't even realize it's happening until they're at the bottom looking up, perplexed at how they didn't notice they were sliding downward before then. 

Three weeks ago, my friend Amanda was involved in a murder/suicide. In light of that, I learned a month prior she had tried to commit suicide. I knew she was struggling and I knew she wasn't in a good place. I didn't know how bad it was. I didn't know the depth of the negative emotions she was feeling. As someone who has been in a bad place more than a couple times, I never hesitate to ask if someone is okay when I notice something is amiss. You can't do more than ask and offer support. You can't push someone to let you help them when they just smile and tell you they'll be fine, they're just stressed from XYZ. That life isn't great but they're okay. They promise they're okay. They'll promise if they really need someone, they'll reach out to you. It's an incredibly frustrating feeling to watch someone you care about be in pain, physically or emotionally, and not be able to help them through it. All you can do is trust that when they say they'll reach out if they truly need it, that they will. And you can hope they mean it and feel a little better as they smile at you and thank you and promise you they won't suffer in silence. You can let a little of the uneasiness go as they put an arm around your shoulder or hug you and you can feel a little more secure that everything is going to be okay.

I'll never know why my friend did what she did and I'll never know why her ex did the things he did. I've refused to speculate about any of the "maybes" and "what ifs" because I wasn't there and couldn't possibly know what happened. The only thing I know for certain is what the ultimate outcome was and that's that two people died senselessly and needlessly leaving behind a lot of confusion, sorrow, anger and pain for their loved ones to deal with. 

I could barely get through that first week without crying every time I thought of her. I couldn't avoid learning some of the specific details of it so I had nightmares of my friend laying in a pool of her own blood with her big eyes staring lifelessly into nothing several times. I cried for the two young kids she left behind. I cried for her family for the raw agony they displayed. I cried until my body hurt because it hurt and because I was confused and angry. 

My boyfriend and I had a joint birthday party the week after she died. We went to her funeral the morning of the party and I was a wreck. She was supposed to attend the party that night and yet there I was, sitting in a church, looking at pictures of her cycle through on a wall. Pictures of her and her kids. Pictures of her looking so happy. Doing things she loved doing. Being the kind-hearted person she was. Being the girl I met at a mutual friend's party years and got along with immediately. The first time I met her we spent the rest of the time there hanging out, laughing and joking like we'd seen each other many times before. I don't often connect with people like that and it didn't matter how much time went by between times of seeing each other, it was always like we'd just seen each other last week. I remember sitting there watching pictures and notes scroll by on the wall and wanting to cry because I was supposed to see her later that night, not see pictures of her and mourn her death. 

The first hour or so of the party that night, I felt like I was just going through motions and not really in it at all. One of my friends came in, came into the kitchen and hugged me so tightly for much longer than he normally does and I almost lost it then. He said, "I know this sucks and I know you're sad but everyone here is happy to see you and happy to be spending time with you and would do anything to stop you from hurting if they could. That's got to make you feel a little better." He was right and then I did cry a little because him saying that brought the warmest feeling I'd felt all week. I decided then not to let my pain and grief run things but there were a few times where I'd look around the apartment full of talking, smiling, laughing people and I wished so hard that she'd walk in and I'd realize it was all just a bad dream. Of course, that's completely unrealistic and I knew that even as I was thinking it but it's hard not to wish things like that when you're dealing with the death of someone you cared about.

I know better than to feel guilt and blame myself in situations like this. I had a good friend commit suicide years ago when I lived in California. I felt a lot of guilt over that at first but I realized placing blame on myself for someone else's actions was just bad for me. It didn't bring them back and it only added to all the negative feelings I already felt. I've learned that you can't blame the things you didn't do or blame yourself in any way in situations like this. A friend of a mutual friend went on a tirade about how we were all the blame for her death because none of us did enough. He didn't share my feelings on blame and that made me sad for him. It's easy to look at something after the fact and find ways where you could have done more but who's to say that one more time would have been the time that made the difference? You have no way of knowing one way or another. You're only hurting yourself even more during a time where you're already hurting enough without rubbing salt in your own wounds.

I wish she would have said more. I wish I had known she had tried to kill herself a month prior to the murder/suicide happening. I understand why her family kept that private and understand why she wouldn't have told anyone about it. I wish she wouldn't have stayed in an abusive relationship for so long before finally deciding to leave. I wish she would have asked me or anyone else for help. I wish she could have found the peace she was always searching for. I wish a lot of things had been different because then maybe my friend and her ex would both still be alive but I don't blame myself in any way.

You can offer to help someone all you want but that doesn't mean they'll ever take it. You can care and worry until it hurts, until it wears on you physically and mentally, you can do everything in your power but you can't make a person let you in or accept that they can't do it on their own. Sometimes, they will. Sometimes, you'll offer and they'll let down their defenses. They'll open up and let you see that raw vulnerability and you'll be there as they travel back up. It'll be hard and it'll hurt but they'll get there.

Sometimes, they won't ever do anything they say they will because even when it's being offered, sometimes it's just too hard to accept the help people are offering. It's such a silly notion because on paper it seems so easy. You're struggling and slipping further into a darkness that's stealing away the light from your life. People notice and offer you the help you need because you're losing the fight on your own and having another person or two or four to help you through it would make things easier. So you ask for help and those people do what they can to offer their support and do whatever they need for you. It's different than people who suffer on in silence without no one noticing and not being able to say anything on your own. You've got people noticing and you've admitted things suck a little and you're not dealing with it well. On paper, it's easy. On paper, it's so black and white and simple that it makes no sense for this to fail.

Mental illness isn't just black and white and simple. It's not neat and easy. It's one thing to know people are there for you but to be able to reach out and admit that you're really not okay and don't think you can make it back up on your own? It's hard. So hard. There are so many reasons why someone might not reach out when help is being offered to them. It's easy for people to say, "here, just tell me what's wrong and we'll fix it!" when they're not the person sitting there trying to figure out what's wrong and feeling like there's something deeply wrong with them for feeling the way they do. It's hard to ask for help when you feel so broken and wrong that you feel like nothing anyone could possibly say or do would ever make you feel any better. It's hard to see that things could get better when they're bad. Especially if it's been bad for so long. Sometimes you think you should be able to fix your own problems and assume that if you can't even figure out how to fix yourself, no one else will either. Sometimes you don't want to admit to anyone else how bad you really feel. It's tough to open yourself up that way and to be that vulnerable to other people. What if they react poorly? Maybe they'll judge or laugh? Maybe they'll brush it off because maybe it's really not as bad as it seems? What if they treat me differently? What if they think I'm lying? Maybe they'll be indifferent? What if they don't care as much as I thought they would? What if they can't help me? Maybe they'll think I'm just crazy?

So many things keep people from reaching out. It's hard to see that there's any light left when you're so far down. No matter how many people tell you they're there for you, it's not always easy to believe them and not always easy to let go and ask for help. You know that even if you can't open yourself up to friends and family members, there are hotlines and professionals you can reach out to for help.Sometimes even reaching out to a stranger is terrifying. Admitting there's something wrong and admitting you might need help to yourself is one of the hardest things to do. Reaching out to get that help no matter who you're thinking about reaching out to is tough and scary as hell. A lot of people don't realize how much strength and courage it takes for a lot of people to speak up, to say something is wrong, to admit to themselves and others that they need help.

There's still such a stigma deeply rooted here and that alone makes it even harder for so many to seek out help. If I could, I'd help everyone see that it's never too late for them. It sounds so cliche but it's true. As long as you're living and breathing, it's not too late to say something. It's not too late to get help and get back to a better place. It might take a while and it will be hard and it will hurt and it will suck for a while more but it can get better. It will get better.

 I miss her and it still hurts. I wish she would've felt like she had another option. That things could have gotten better. That it wasn't too late. It doesn't always work that way, unfortunately. Sometimes, mental illness wins out and it's crushing. I know she'll never see this but I'm not really writing it for her. I talked to the boyfriend a little about how I was feeling but I didn't talk much. Talking about the way I'm feeling isn't easy for me. Writing my feelings has always been a hundred times easier than speaking them, even if it's someone I trust and love, it's hard to verbalize my emotions and the way I'm feeling. I've written some in a pen and paper journal but I wanted to blog about mental illness again and this all just kind of spilled out in the process. I thought about deleting a lot of this but I figure, if it spilled out, I needed to get it out, so I'll leave it as is. I'll always miss her and it'll probably always hurt a little bit in that aching kind of way that hits you when you think of someone you've lost but that's just a part of living life.

Death and the ugly side of curiosity.

On June 15th, long after I got home from celebrating my birthday and Father's Day with my family, I was laying in bed thinking about what time I needed to be up in the morning. My boyfriend walked in with his phone clutched in his hands and it was one of those moments you just knew something wasn't right. I asked what was wrong and he just handed me his phone and laid down next to me wrapping an arm around me. I read the words on the screen but I couldn't make sense of them. So I read them again. And then a third time. Then I read the names three more times because I was in shock. My friend and her ex had been found dead in what had been the home they shared together up until a few weeks ago when she had begun moving out.

I sat there staring at the words on the screen trying to make sense of it. It was Sunday night. She had been fine Friday. We were having a party on the 21st that she was coming to and was excited about. Instead, my Saturday started by going to her memorial service. That wasn't the way I was supposed to see her that day but that's how it worked out.

Her death made the local news. I went into work the morning after I found out and told my boss what happened so he would understand the mood I was in. He offered to let me go back home and have the morning off. I declined. I needed the distraction and needed to keep focused on something else. Anything else. My co-workers there that day found out from my boss and were supportive and respectful.

As the days passed and a few more details emerged, some of my co-workers and acquaintances decided to start speculating about what may have happened. The death was a murder-suicide so there are so many things left unanswered and unknown. I know people like to talk and speculate about things like this so I avoided news stories and tons of things posted on Facebook and Twitter. I asked my co-workers not to talk about it in front of me.

I learned a new lesson about death. One of the worst things about a friend's death getting media coverage is so many people want to talk to you about it. They'll give you space at first but then they'll get curious and they'll want to talk to you. Because you knew them and maybe you know something that's not mentioned. They'll offer their opinion on what they think happened, an opinion that's based on nothing. Or worse they'll try to pry details out of you like you're just a vault of secrets. Most don't even care that you're hurting, that you're grieving. Their own curiosity is more important than how you're feeling. Some will even get annoyed when you refuse to discuss it. How dare you put your pain ahead of their curiosity! The story was on the news and in the paper so how could I not want to discuss every tantalizing detail?

To them, it's a news story and they're emotionally detached from it. It's something to solve and try to figure out. It's interesting despite the circumstances being unpleasant. So they ask questions and offer scenarios and opinions and want to discuss the whole ordeal with you because you have a better grasp of things and more knowledge of what's going on. It's not because they care, it's just human nature to be curious. Discussing the details and listening to speculation is really the last thing I want to do. To me, I'm sad. I'm angry. I'm confused. I feel lost. I'm aching to understand, to make some form of sense of why this happened not because I'm curious but because if I could just understand, I could cope better. I'll never know more than I know now. I'll never know how things played out and I'll never know why this happened. It's crushing in a way that sudden deaths usually are. I don't find the mystery of all the unknowns interesting; I find them heartbreaking and feel them like heavy rocks weighing me down.

I've had countless people attempt to pry for more details after I've said I don't want to discuss what was on the news. I've had many more offer opinions that I didn't ask for despite me saying I didn't want to discuss it. I've had people try to tell me how I'm supposed to feel and think about my friend because they saw the story.

I understand curiosity, I really do. I'm a very curious person myself. However, I also understand being a decent, respectful human being and understand putting a person's feelings ahead of my own. I've been on the other side of a situation similar to this. Prying and offering speculation to a person directly affected never even crossed my mind. Support was all that I offered because I wanted to help, not do something to make things worse or make them feel worse than they already did. Explaining that concept to people has been exhausting. And it's mostly co-workers, acquaintances and friends of friends. It baffles me that someone would be annoyed or angered by a grieving person not wanting to discuss or speculate about the death of someone they cared about. It's confusing and enraging that a few have even acted like I owe it to them to discuss it.

Unexpected death is hard enough to deal with without having to deal with people you know and others you hardly know pushing you for details and/or offering their opinions on the situation because they saw this here and read that there and that lead them to this conclusion because. I appreciate everyone that's offered their support and respected my wishes to not discuss things. I appreciate that so much more now than I did a week ago because so many people just don't understand or don't care enough not to pry and push.

It's not hard to be decent and respectful. It's not hard to think of how someone else is feeling in a situation where they've lost someone they cared for unexpectedly. Especially when they're telling you how they're feeling and telling you that you're overstepping. It's not difficult to be kind and put their pain ahead of your own desire to feed your curiosity, your desire to know. At least it shouldn't be.

Death Of A Loved One.

“That was the thing. You never got used to it, the idea of someone being gone. Just when you think it's reconciled, accepted, someone points it out to you, and it just hits you all over again, that shocking.” -Sarah Dessen

Today marks the third year since my grandfather passed away. I didn't think I'd cry today because the days leading up to it, I was fine, unlike the previous two years. I thought that meant I must finally be okay with it. I know I'll always miss him but I thought maybe I was finally to a point where I wouldn't cry over it anymore. I woke up this morning and I heard thunder and pouring rain. That seemed fitting and comforting because the sound of a storm always comforts me. I laid in bed and thought of thunderstorms that happened while at my grandparents house and how sometimes, they'd let us go out and play in the rain if it wasn't a dangerous storm. I smiled and got up to start my day. I felt the familiar dull ache I always feel in my chest when I think of him being gone but still, I didn't think I'd cry. 

I hate to cry and I rarely do it. It's not that it makes me feel weak or silly or anything like that and I don't actively try to prevent it from happening. It just takes a lot to bring me to tears. I used to feel bad about that because I felt like something was wrong with me. I've moved passed that. If it happens, I let it happen. I just dislike feeling that vulnerable, that open, even if I'm by myself. I also never feel better after I cry. I know so many people that talk about how cathartic crying is but I don't feel that. I always feel worse and I'm not sure why. 

So today when I heard a song that's about a man singing about his pain and grief over losing the man he loved and respected and trying to cope with that, I didn't try to stop the tears that spilled from my eyes and streamed down my face. I was happy I was in line at the bank drive-thru at the time and not back at the shop because crying in front of people is awkward. I didn't try to stop myself from crying again when I was putting my groceries in my car after work and I happened to look up and oddly see an older gentleman who looked a lot like my grandfather. As much as I hate crying and even though it doesn't really ever make me feel better, holding it in is much worse.

I think too many people get caught up in trying to move on and file away their sad feelings into a place where they can't bother them anymore. Maybe that works for them. That's all you can do, be honest with yourself and find what works for you and do it. Myself, I can't always focus on the good things and sometimes, I need to be sad about something. It's okay to get sad once in a while over losing someone you love, no matter how many years have passed. You can't let that grief and sadness consume you because it will act like a wildfire in dry brush, it was spread quickly and overwhelm you. It will swallow you whole and won't think twice about it. There's a balance and sometimes it's a very delicate line. 

People always say that time will heal all wounds. That time passing is all that really helps you move on from losing someone you love. In part, that's true. It doesn't happen over night. It never happens as quickly as we like it to. It took me a year before I could change the phone contacts in my cell phone from "grandma and grandpa" to just "grandma." It took me even long to stop referring to it as "grandma and grandpa's" house when I'd say that's where I was going. He died June 9th (which unfortunately also happens to be one of my brother's birthdays) and Father's Day in 2011 happened 10 days later. That year, seeing all the "grandfather" cards out for Father's Day felt like a harsh kick to the gut and I ended up leaving Target a sobbing mess because it hurt to much to think about him being gone. A year later, it was a weird realization that I wouldn't need a Father's Day card for him because holy damn it had been a whole year already. I read some anyway and remember getting sad because I'd never need another card for him again. I'd never get another hug after he read whatever sweet but cheesy thing that card said. Sometimes, it's weird things that set you off. Time does make it easier because those things that felt gut wrenching the first few months on up to the first year didn't sting as sharply. You don't cry as easily. You still miss them but the mass that's made up of all the pain and grief is smaller, duller, not as bright, not as sharp.

It's good to focus on the happy things and the good memories you have of someone and I'm lucky to have a lot of good memories and things to laugh and smile about. Sharing stories and memories helps. It brings you closer to the other people who loved the one you loved. You bond in a way that you don't bond with anyone else because you're sharing thoughts and feelings that they truly understand. It's good to remember the positives but it doesn't fully take away the pain of losing them, doesn't help the ache you feel inside when you miss them and doesn't fix the piece of you that feels like it's gone now. I've come to realize that just because the wound of losing a loved one is healed doesn't mean it never hurts you anymore. You just get better at living with it.

“It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things.” -Lemony Snicket

You'll be missed.

I hate writing about sad stuff but I need to get this out somewhere. I'm not good at talking about things like this and honestly don't have that many people I can talk to anyway. Writing always helps when words fail me verbally though.

These amazing photos of bears in the wild were taken by a talented and wonderful man, Philip Perdue.

I met Philip because he was friends with my boyfriend Shane and had been for years. Phil was one of the first member of Shane's car club that made me feel welcome and included me into their diverse group of members.

His talent with photography and the often very amusing stories that went along with the photos he took were one of the things I liked most about him. He had a passion for capturing the world through photograph and he was good at it.

I admired how upbeat & optimistic he was no matter what life tossed at him. He had some things he was fighting through and some days were enough to put most people into grumpy spirits. He rarely let anything get him down, though.

He had a great sense of humor. A little (ok a lot) weird at times but the man never failed to make me and those around him laugh their asses off.

As a free spirit myself, I can always recognize and appreciate that in someone else. I admired that in him.

Phil was one of the most genuinely nice guys anyone could ever be fortunate enough to know.
He was the kind of guy always ready to lend a helping hand to anyone who needed one without ever keeping score or expecting anything in return. He had such kind heart and so much joy to give.

Last night as I was getting off of a long 10 hour shift at work, my boyfriend called me from work crying. I was automatically worried something was wrong with him but he had just found out from a good mutual friend he shared with Phil that Phil had died unexpectedly. I was stunned to say the least. We had just gone through the death of a family friend a little over a week ago when the mother of one of the goalies on my brother's hockey team passed away unexpectedly and now this. I stayed on the phone with my boyfriend the remainder of his break then just sat in my car letting the news about Phil sink in. I ended up driving around a little bit then went to the boyfriend's job so I could be with him on his lunch break to offer comfort and maybe a few laughs. I didn't cry until I got home that night. I pulled into the driveway and the sky was so pretty with a few stars barely peeking through clouds. I thought of Phil and how much he loved photography and of a conversation we had about how gorgeous the night skies in Northern California were on clear nights. Then I sat there sobbing and realizing I'd never see him again. I'd never have another conversation, never hear his goofy laugh, never hear another story about a trip he went on to take amazing photos with crazy mishaps. Shane had wanted him to be the photographer at our wedding (we do plan to get married eventually) but now he won't be there walking around smiling his big goofy grin with his camera, making jokes and capturing so many moments through photograph.

He was always so friendly and genuinely nice to everyone. Until you did wrong to anyone he cared for, then he wasn't such a gentle teddy bear. He was loved and liked by so many, he will be greatly missed.

I'll miss that quirky little man with the big heart and goofy grin.

RIP Phil.

It's been a year since he died..

Today is the birthday of one of my younger brothers. He turns 26 today. I turn 27 on June 15th making me not even a full year older than he is. He lives in Northern California so I won't see him today. I can't exactly remember the last time we celebrated birthdays together though it was at some point when I lived out in California years ago. 

Today is also the date that makes it one year since our grandfather passed away. I remember sitting in my aunt's living room, we knew his time was getting closer and all I could hope for was that he would pass before midnight struck on the 8th or hold on for another day so he didn't pass on my brother's birthday. I know it seems like a silly thing to hope for but no one wants the day of their birth, a day most people celebrate, to be a day that is also marked as the loss of someone you love who was an important person in your life. You can celebrate their life, remember the good times, all that stuff but it still hurts. There's no amount of happy memories and laughter that can fill that void where that person used to be. Those things just make it easier to deal with.


I sat in my aunt's living room and after the clock was passed midnight, I knew it wouldn't be much longer. Maybe I was just bracing myself for it to happen, I don't know. I didn't sleep much. I was tired but I felt restless. Around 6 AM, we got the news, he was gone. I remember feeling like I needed to cry but being unable to. In a way, I was happy he wasn't in pain anymore and it was hard at that moment to be sad about him dying because I knew he wasn't suffering anymore for the first moment in a long time.I went outside and watched the sun rise for the first time in a long time. I remember I kept thinking that maybe I was dreaming because everything felt so surreal right then. I was thinking that maybe this wasn't really happening, maybe I'd wake up and everything would be fine. It didn't take long for me to snap out of that and fall in to feeling numb. I didn't want to cry or feel sad so I just tried to feel nothing and focused more on other things. I do that a lot. I'm not an overly emotional person and dealing with emotions that aren't anger is so hard for me. Being emotional around other people, even if it's family, is also very hard for me. I have a hard time opening up like that. 


I really can't believe it's been a year. It gotten easier to deal with as more time went by, though. I know most people don't see their grandparents often but I grew up seeing mine often and they were both a big influence on my life. I grew up looking up to my grandpa. I admired him so much. I don't cry much over his passing anymore but I've never been much of a crier. I do still occasionally get hit with sadness and it always happens over things that I wouldn't expect to make me think of and miss him.

Sometimes when I find myself missing him, I sit out on front porch and just look out at the stars and clear my head or think about happy memories I have with him. And I have so many good memories with him. He used to sit out on the porch all the time and I used to like to sit out there with him when I was taking a break from playing or doing something. Sometimes we talked, sometimes we would just sit quietly. Granted, the sitting quietly never lasted long for me. I learned more from him than I ever realized and more than he probably ever thought he'd passed on to me. He was a great man and I'm happy I was lucky enough to have him be such a part of my life. I still miss him but then again I probably always will.

Excuse me while I get emotional...

Excuse me if I end up rambling and not making much sense or repeating myself at all the further into the post you get. I'm a bit emotional and I can't really get my thoughts and words to cooperate with one another for the sake of being articulate. I need to write this out and emotions are messy, ugly things sometimes which I'm sure will be reflected in this rambling post. Anyway...

I was talking to a friend yesterday about Christmas type stuff. She asked me how my blog's fundraiser was coming along and I admitted it hadn't gone as well as the first two years. I wondered in part if that's because I just wasn't putting as much effort into it as I had the previous two years but that's not the case. Though, I almost didn't do it this year because when I thought about it, it seemed like I might not be able to get into the spirit of doing it. But, I'm glad I did because it's given me something good to focus on and doing it really does make me so happy and I needed something to be happy about during the holiday season. I love helping people and through this, a lot of families will get help during their financially rough holiday season. (Which by the way, there are only 11 days left to donate to the Toys for Tots fundraiser.) That conversation led us to the topic of presents for our friends and loved ones. We were talking about what we planned to get our families and in my case what I had already gotten for mine since I'm almost done with my gift shopping already. I really just wanted to get it over with and out of the way with as quickly as possible. Then we started talking house decorations and such. I started thinking about how this would be my first Christmas without Grandpa here. I forgot what I said exactly but it was something to do with decorations and my grandparents house.

Which caused this response from my friend....

"You know, you still always refer to it as your grandparent's house or your grandma and grandpa's place, right? But it's been almost 6 months since he died, don't you think you should just refer to it as your grandma's house by now?"

And the thing is, she wasn't trying to be rude or an ass. She was just asking because she was generally curious if I realized I still did that. And I hadn't really realized that because it was just the way I phrased it out of habit. She didn't even realize it might be an insensitive thing to say until I started crying. Then she was freaking out, apologizing and then crying herself because she felt so bad. She's never had anyone close to her die before. Her worse experience with death so far in life has been having to say goodbye to a few goldfishes before.

Maybe I should stop referring to it as "their" house but I don't. I still think of it as their house even though he passed away this summer. They lived there before I was born. It was their house long before I was even thought of, before my parents even knew each other. That's the house I spent many weekends, Spring Breaks, weeks at a time during Summer break and so on and so forth in. It's a place I grew up at and a place I spent a lot of time at. And it was "their" house for my entire life up until this passed June when he passed away, in that house. I spent 25 years spending time in that house and I've always referred to it as "grandma and grandpa's house" or "my grandparents house" and I cant seem to wrap my head around getting myself to think of it differently, even though he's been gone for almost half a year.

When I go visit my grandma, I say just that, that I'm going to visit her. It's not like I haven't accepted he's gone. It would be hard to be in denial about that after seeing his lifeless body at his viewing. I understand he's gone. I go visit my grandma and I still see so much of him there. Pictures, his chair, his room, his bed and tons of other things I've always associated with him. It's hard not to think of it as "their" home when there's sill so much of him there, including the urn that has his ashy remains in them, lol.

A few people told me the holidays would be hard. I thought that it would be difficult but I didn't really understand how it would feel. I got mad at myself on Thanksgiving because I found myself standing in my aunt's kitchen cooking and wishing he would be there to eat the macaroni and cheese I was making from scratch because he liked it so much. I almost cried while I was standing there melting the cheeses because I just missed him so much at that moment and wished he could be there for it. Then I was angry at myself for being upset because I sometimes feel like it shouldn't hurt so much still. And even though I know that's silly, I was grateful for that because I hate crying in front of people and that anger at myself kept me from bawling into the mac and cheese in front of my family. And I was happy for that for another reason; because it was my grandmother and my mom and my aunts and he was their father and they weren't crying. Maybe they wanted to but they were holding it together and making the best of the day even though I knew my grandmother was hurting horribly. I didn't want to be the one that set everyone else into a depressing mood or a crying fit.

Now as it's Christmas this and Christmas that all over the place, it's hard. I look at the Christmas tree we have in our living room and I remember the last cute little tree they had at their house and I wonder if my grandma will even bother with putting one up this year. I wonder if she'll stay with my mom and aunt or my other aunt for a few days so she doesn't have to be alone on the holiday. I thought about how I wouldn't have to get him any of the things he always wanted every year for Christmas but when I go somewhere and see any one of his favorite things, I wish I had a reason to buy any or all of them still. It hurts in such a deep aching way and sometimes, I don't know how to deal with it. I feel grateful that he's gone because he's not suffering in any way any longer. I want to laugh and smile because I feel so lucky to have had him around for so long, to have had such a good relationship with him, for him caring so much for us and for the good memories I have with him. And I want to cry because I miss him and it hurts that he's not around anymore.

I remember Christmas when I was 10. We lived in this two story house that had a tiny little front porch on it that held two chairs. My grandpa always sat outside on the porch for a while. He liked to just sit out there and watch the world go by and think. I remember that year I sat outside with him in a Tasmanian Devil t-shirt, a hideously ugly jacket that I thought was awesome at the time and track pants with a Santa hat on and asked him why he liked sitting outside so much when it was so cold. He said being outside was calming, relaxing. It was quiet and there was just nature and his thoughts if he wanted to think or reflect. Being out in the open air, seeing the trees, the grass and smelling those things was a nice place to be. I remember pointing out that it was icy and cold and you couldn't really smell anything besides cold. He laughed and asked me what I thought cold smelled like. I said ice cubes and he did a little half smile and agreed with me. Then I just sat out there with him for a long time and didn't say anything else until we went in to eat.

And it's memories like those that I try to focus on right now because I have plenty of good memories of him. And plenty of great ones from all the Christmases he was around for. The thing about focusing on the happy times though is knowing you'll never have more like them but trying to be thankful and happy that you had them in the first place. I often end up sad whilst thinking of good memories of him I have just because it makes me miss him. Sometimes I end up crying and a times it's out of pain and sadness, other times it's more of a happy yet bittersweet feeling.

Death is such a weird fucking thing to deal with.

The holidays are rough sometimes...

I'm feeling kind of odd about Thanksgiving. My grandfather died this summer, in early June. I saw him often and grew up seeing my grandparents all the time and spending lots of weekends and stuff with them. It's been hard coping at time with the fact that he's not around. Saturday, I went to my grandma's house with my mom and two youngest siblings. We helped her with the yard work because grandpa always kept up with it and she's not much for it. It was fun and felt good being outside and doing it together but I kept thinking about various things. Like growing up and watching my grandpa do the yard work. Or going back into his shed to pull out various tools we needed and thinking about how huge that shed had seemed when I was a little kid but how small it seems now. I stood in there for a minute looking at everything and felt sad knowing he'd never step in there again, those tools that were once all in a certain spot just "where ever" now because other family members who used them just put them back in no certain order. After the yard work, we played games while watching the Stars game on TV. No comments from the recliner in the corner of the living room during the game, he's not there to make comments about anything anymore.

We also talked about what the plans for Thanksgiving would be. Grandma isn't much on cooking because grandpa really enjoyed cooking. He did a lot of the cooking for Thanksgiving. Grandma never learned to do a turkey or a chicken because he always handled it. And in her words, "I'm in my 80's and don't care to learn the proper way to cook a damn turkey anyway." I hadn't even thought of it until she mentioned the cooking thing but this will be the first Thanksgiving I'll have been home for that I won't be eating something he cooked. I won't be watching him cook or pestering him for anything.

It's the little things like those things that really make me sad. Like having Thanksgiving dinner without him. Not having him at the table for any sarcastic remarks about anything. He didn't say a lot at times but when he did say something, it was worth hearing and really listening to. Up until the last couple years when he fell in and out of knowing what was really going on. Alzheimer's is a bitch and I don't wish anyone to every have to go through that or watch someone they love go through it. Everyone says the first year is the hardest when someone you're close to dies because it's hard to adjust to them not being around for all the big events and holidays they've always been around for. I'm doing better with it but it's still rough and I miss him.

We're spending Thanksgiving at my aunt's house in East Texas this year, which will be a first. Grandma said she didn't want it at her place because she couldn't stand to be there without him being there. An aunt had a suggestion to just go to a restaurant but my grandma doesn't do well around noisy places and I'm seriously hate the idea of going out to dinner on Thanksgiving anyway. So we're doing it at my aunt's house instead. I know there will inevitably be some sadness but I'm hoping everyone will focus more on the present and the good memories we all have of passed years. Whenever I get upset or feel sad or just miss him, that's what I like to do. I think about a happy memory of him or some of the good times we had. Which makes me miss him but it also makes me feel better at the same time.

I hope no matter where you go or what you'll be doing this year (if you celebrate) that you'll take a moment and be happy for all that you have. And I hope everyone has an enjoyable holiday celebration around people they care about. Though I know sometimes, that's a hell of a lot easier said than done because no one can drive you crazy like your own damn family can. :)

Okay that's enough rambling from me. One more thing really quick, though. I know y'all are probably sick of seeing it but that's too bad, I am annoying when it comes to raising money for causes/charities I take part in. :) There's just a few weeks left to donate to my Toys For Tots Fundraiser. It doesn't take much to help out! The majority of the donations I've received have been for $5 to $10. Every little bit helps and it's for a great cause. Click the link to check out the post to see more information, passed fundraisers and see the pictures! So, donate if you can please and feel free to post about this on twitter, your blog, tumblr, facebook; whatever social media you spend time online. It would be much appreciated. And thanks so much to those who have donated. :)

Happy Wednesday!!!

It's been three months since he died...

Today makes it three months since my grandfather passed away. Anyone who read that post or anyone who has followed me or known me long enough knows how important he was to me.

I know how lucky I was to have such a good relationship with him and I am thankful for that and thankful for all the good memories of him I have.

It's still hard to think of him as being gone, though. Since he passed three months ago we went through what would have been my grandparents 64th wedding anniversary (less than a month after he passed), my grandmother's birthday and what would have been my grandfather's birthday at the end of August.

I think the first year will be the hardest because it's all the firsts he won't be around for. It's just weird to not think of him being at family events or not talking to him when I talk to grandma. Him not being there when we go to visit and just lots of things to get used to.

I know with time it will get better though. At first, lots of things made me cry. Certain songs that made me think of him would get me tearing up. A few times watching Rangers baseball games made me cry. I'd see things, smell things, hear things and think of things that reminded me of him and I'd cry. It hurt a lot and I hated that it made me cry so easily because I'm rarely brought to tears by anything. One night, I was laying in bed with the boyfriend and something he said reminded me of grandpa and I just started sobbing. He laid there with me, rubbing my back, letting me cry, getting me tissues, getting me water, hugging me; generally being the supportive and amazing man he is. He understands how it feels. His grandfather was his father figure and him, his mom and his little sister lived with their grandparents until the boyfriend was 17. Then they got a house a quarter mile down the street so they would still be close.

Three months later, though? Things make me sad, things make me miss him, I get emotional sometimes but I don't cry over everything any more. Things don't even get my eyes watering very often any more. I don't feel bad about that because it's a good thing. It's good to take time to grieve and mourn but you have to be able to move forward, too. It doesn't mean you're forgetting or caring less but you can't stay stuck in grief and sadness because it will consume you and effect you and people around you negatively. Your life can't stop because you lose someone you love.

I'll always love him and always miss him. Some days are still hard but, I know it gets better with time. And I'll always have the memories of all the great moments and happy times I had with him.

R.I.P. Puppy Love

I talked about this on Twitter a little the day it happened but didn't feel like blogging about it at the time. I do now.

July 29TH, my boyfriend's dog died. She was 7 years old. She suffered from a stroke, went to the vet, was doing better and recovering, then had another stroke the following morning she couldn't recover from and died. It was sad. My boyfriend called the vet right when their office opened to see if we could pick her up that day since she had been doing much better and we were supposed to be able to bring her home. Instead, he was told she had died just a few minutes prior to his call.

Her name was Akasha and she was very much a part of the family. He was crushed. I was upset. I met her when she was 2 and she was such a beautiful dog. She was loyal, protective and sweet. They say dogs often take on the personalities of their owners and I believe that given that a lot of her qualities were similar to that of traits my boyfriend has.

The boyfriend raised Akasha from the time she was a puppy. Here's a picture of her when she was a little gal.

I feel so bad for the Boyfriend. I know he misses her a lot and he was expecting her to come home, not pass away. He got bummed out being near the pet toys in a store the other day. Death is always easier when you know it's coming though it still sucks. When it's unexpected, there's that painful shock that stings along with the pain of losing something special. Hope and relief are a real bitch when it falls through.

About a week ago, I was looking out into the back yard and started crying. I was so used to standing there for a few minutes watching Akasha doing various things out back there. It was weird looking out there and not seeing her.

It's been strange. I always thought of her as "my boyfriend's dog" and I didn't realize how much a part of my life she had become in the 5 years that we've been together. I miss her, definitely more than I thought I would.

She didn't bark a lot, only when someone unfamiliar came near or at other animals that came near. Now every time I hear a random noise outside, I wonder what it is because she's not out there to scare off or take on the threatening stuff.

It's weird not having a dog around who's instantly happy to see you. That will cheer you up so fast, honestly. Bad day but then you see your dog who's got their tail thumping and tongue wagging around because they're just happy to see you.

Though I'll be honest, I'm glad she won't be in any kind of pain any longer. She had a couple minor health complications before the strokes happened that she was taking medication for. So, at leas she isn't hurting anymore.

I know a lot of people don't understand because to some people, pets are just pets, not a part of the family. Other people do understand. You train them, teaching them how to behave and how not to behave. You feed them, bathe them, play with them, take them to the vet when they're sick or hurt, miss them, care for them and love them. I do want another dog, just not any time soon. And I know there's no way my boyfriend will be ready for a new pup any time soon either.