October 18th started out much like any other. Got up, did my housework, flipped through the channels, browsed the forum, chatted, relaxed, et cetera.
All of that changed in a heartbeat. My phone rang, but I didn't pick up, as I am known to do at night. My cousin left a rather urgent message, so I called back, but nobody answered. A split second later the phone rang once more. It was my cousin again, telling me to hurry and get dressed, that I was being picked up now. I asked if something was wrong. She said yes, but did not elaborate. No sooner had I dressed, that the phone rang again.
What I was greeted by on the other end caused my world to come crashing down. Through the hysterical sobbing, I clearly heard this, "JC died. I miss my boy!" It was no one other than my father. After that it was all downhill. I dissolved into sobs, telling him I loved him and that I was sorry. The remainder of our phone call only consisted of our sobbing. When my grandmother pulled up, I told him I had to go and that I loved him.
I ran to that van so fast my feet barely touched the ground. We raced out of the neighborhood to pick up my mother, all the while my grandmother was telling me that I had to be strong for my mother. (How was I supposed to do that when my only full-blooded sibling was suddenly gone?) I soothed my tears, ready to take my place as my mother's rock. My grandmother rushed into her workplace, hunting down my mother's boss before gathering my mother and ushering her into the car.
Locking her in, we pulled a few feet forward before my grandmother told my mother that her first-born and her only son had died. She immediately collapsed into tears, screaming and punching the interior of the passenger side door.
I was pushed aside, but that was fine with me since I had to soothe my own tears first. When it finally came back to me, my mother and I held hands in a tight death-grip, still in tears. Once we arrived at my grandmother's house, my mother and I clung to each other, sobbing uncontrollably. After a few moments, we were ushered into the house.
Shortly after, my family members started arriving. My cousin left work, my aunt called out from work, my other aunt had just returned home, and her long-time boyfriend had to break the news to her. All of my cousins showed up, and we were all torn up. We began to share funny stories, laughing despite our tears, as we took the first step to healing ourselves.
After several hours, everyone dispersed and my mother and myself went home to pack an overnight bag as my grandmother would not let us be home alone, in the hopes that we would get some sleep. Very little sleep was had. I got 2-3 hours tops. I woke up around 3:15 am and sat with my mother as we leafed through the photo album we had created with the hundreds of pictures from his wedding day by candlelight so as to not disturb my grandmother or grandfather. I shared a few songs with my mother, including "In The Arms Of The Angel" by Sarah McLachlan, "Bless The Broken Road" by Rascal Flatts, and one other song. After that my grandmother came and sat with us for a few minutes, before urging us to go back to bed to try and sleep. My mother eventually fell asleep, and so did I, until about 5:20. We had to get up early and take my cousin to school. Upon our return my mother was awake, and I crashed on the living room couch for about 2 hours. Everyone eventually returned and we were just together.
That was our day, we talked to my brother's widow and gleaned every heartbreaking detail from her. She has a preliminary idea already for what she wants for John's remains.
She wants to have him cremated and scatter his ashes in the desert, his favorite place in the world. My mother and I plan to ask her if she would be willing to give us a portion of his ashes.
My mother and I are also planning a sticker for everyone's cars, but she and I are going to go one step further and tattoo ourselves in his memory.
That is all for now. Thank you for taking the time to read my blog, and you all mean so much to me.
All of that changed in a heartbeat. My phone rang, but I didn't pick up, as I am known to do at night. My cousin left a rather urgent message, so I called back, but nobody answered. A split second later the phone rang once more. It was my cousin again, telling me to hurry and get dressed, that I was being picked up now. I asked if something was wrong. She said yes, but did not elaborate. No sooner had I dressed, that the phone rang again.
What I was greeted by on the other end caused my world to come crashing down. Through the hysterical sobbing, I clearly heard this, "JC died. I miss my boy!" It was no one other than my father. After that it was all downhill. I dissolved into sobs, telling him I loved him and that I was sorry. The remainder of our phone call only consisted of our sobbing. When my grandmother pulled up, I told him I had to go and that I loved him.
I ran to that van so fast my feet barely touched the ground. We raced out of the neighborhood to pick up my mother, all the while my grandmother was telling me that I had to be strong for my mother. (How was I supposed to do that when my only full-blooded sibling was suddenly gone?) I soothed my tears, ready to take my place as my mother's rock. My grandmother rushed into her workplace, hunting down my mother's boss before gathering my mother and ushering her into the car.
Locking her in, we pulled a few feet forward before my grandmother told my mother that her first-born and her only son had died. She immediately collapsed into tears, screaming and punching the interior of the passenger side door.
I was pushed aside, but that was fine with me since I had to soothe my own tears first. When it finally came back to me, my mother and I held hands in a tight death-grip, still in tears. Once we arrived at my grandmother's house, my mother and I clung to each other, sobbing uncontrollably. After a few moments, we were ushered into the house.
Shortly after, my family members started arriving. My cousin left work, my aunt called out from work, my other aunt had just returned home, and her long-time boyfriend had to break the news to her. All of my cousins showed up, and we were all torn up. We began to share funny stories, laughing despite our tears, as we took the first step to healing ourselves.
After several hours, everyone dispersed and my mother and myself went home to pack an overnight bag as my grandmother would not let us be home alone, in the hopes that we would get some sleep. Very little sleep was had. I got 2-3 hours tops. I woke up around 3:15 am and sat with my mother as we leafed through the photo album we had created with the hundreds of pictures from his wedding day by candlelight so as to not disturb my grandmother or grandfather. I shared a few songs with my mother, including "In The Arms Of The Angel" by Sarah McLachlan, "Bless The Broken Road" by Rascal Flatts, and one other song. After that my grandmother came and sat with us for a few minutes, before urging us to go back to bed to try and sleep. My mother eventually fell asleep, and so did I, until about 5:20. We had to get up early and take my cousin to school. Upon our return my mother was awake, and I crashed on the living room couch for about 2 hours. Everyone eventually returned and we were just together.
That was our day, we talked to my brother's widow and gleaned every heartbreaking detail from her. She has a preliminary idea already for what she wants for John's remains.
She wants to have him cremated and scatter his ashes in the desert, his favorite place in the world. My mother and I plan to ask her if she would be willing to give us a portion of his ashes.
My mother and I are also planning a sticker for everyone's cars, but she and I are going to go one step further and tattoo ourselves in his memory.
That is all for now. Thank you for taking the time to read my blog, and you all mean so much to me.
