Surprise ThursdayBlogDay! As my last post said, I am driving back down to
California today. Although today is Thursday, I started writing this
post on Tuesday when life got a little crazier than it already was. I started
writing with the intent of mulling through my thoughts daily as I process the
sudden death of my dad’s 42-year-old sister this morning. Not only am I
witnessing the worst heartbreak I have ever seen, watching three generations
mourn together, but also rolling with the punches, as this was the week I
planned to head back down to California.
(Tuesday May 29) The
Weirdest Day Ever
“I should have never bugged
her about tattoos, I told her they would wrinkle when she got old. She never
got old now. She should have gotten all the tattoos she wanted,” said my mom on
the topic of Auntie Dawn’s death. My family has found we share a strange
comfort in raw humor on the topic of death. She also said while cleaning, “You
know, this is why you want to keep your house clean. You never know when you
might die and the whole world comes over. If I die, please vacuum, maybe it
will help you process things. You would know your next move in life, vacuum”. I’m
expecting these may offend some and humor others. My apologies for the offense
and thank my mother if you share a guilty, cynical laugh.
Today was supposed to be my
last day of work, and my second to last full day in Washington for the summer.
I had a dentist appointment at 8am in which I tried to figure out what the
Asian hygienist was saying to me in my half-asleep state and also a
chiropractor appointment. From the dentist I headed to the chiropractor for one
of my last alignments before Thursday, leaving day. I called my dad as I drove
by the school he teaches at, offering to swing by because I was early for my
chiropractor appointment. Since he was in a meeting I headed to the
chiropractor and happened to get in 15 minutes early for my 9:30 appointment.
“Chels, I’m at Auntie Dawn’s
house. She’s not breathing”. The surge of panic with those words is an emotion
I have yet to feel at an age that I could understand that it meant dead. My
instant thought was along the lines of, no breath=dead. I asked my dad if
anyone had called 911, praying that my dad’s panicked voice was not because he
found her not breathing, but instead was called by the paramedics about her not
breathing. He said the paramedics were in the process of CPR, in fact that was
all he said. Contemplating my next words more than ever, especially with his
lack of words, I asked if that meant he wanted me to come there. He said no
more than a simple yes and the line went dead.
I called into work on my way,
bursting into tears sputtering, “I can’t come in today, I think my aunt just
died. Actually, I’m not sure. She might be dead, she might not be. But I’m
going there, and I can’t come in”. I know my poor coworker understood why I was
in such a panic, and told me not to worry and to deal with my family emergency.
My next phone call was to my boyfriend, leaving him a panicked message that I’m
sure was not fun to get out of class to, and I’m also sure made no sense what
so ever. When I parked a block from my aunt’s, there were aid cars, paramedics,
fire trucks, fire fighters, and policemen. The air smelled like chaos and the
front lawn looked like fear.
I found my dad on the front
porch talking with the head of the paramedic team, and watched my strong father
burst into tears for only the second time in my life. “She’s not responding to
the medication, nothing is working, we have to stop the CPR. I’m sorry for your
loss sir, I understand this is hard”. They gave it their all and she’s gone. The
phrase time stood still is more than appropriate. All I wished for was a way to
somehow ease the pain my sobbing father felt in the seconds that his sister
passed.
I watched my grandma try to
grasp the death of her child, her only daughter, I watched my dad try to grasp
the death of his sister, and I watched her kids try to grasp the death of their
mother. All of these are the most
emotional pain I have ever seen unfold on faces, especially on faces of loved
ones. Physical pain is easier to deal with, especially as a woman. To watch
this pain in the midst of a crisis tore my heart into pieces. If the pain were
physical I could help, however no amount of hugs, back rubs, or tear wiping
could even aid this pain in any form. English should have a different word for
this kind of pain because it is nothing like physical pain.
Death does bring fresh
perspective, and I won’t bore you with life is short and fragile cliché sayings.
For now my house is a spinning mess of tears, hypothetical causes of sudden
death, and rollercoasters of emotions. I am so thankful I have the chance to be
home for this, for my brother and sister, for my dad, and for my mom. If I had
to hear this from California, to hear the ache over the phone instead of at the
very least being present to hug, this would be so much worse.
The idea that life ends is
so difficult to grasp, so unreal. When I looked at her body, empty, soul-less,
it looked like her face, but not her. There is so much more to life than a
physical being, so much more to a person than his or her heart beat. I am so
thankful for every day of breathing, so thankful for the support I get to
witness surround and overwhelm my extended and immediate family.
(Wednesday May 30) Love is All You Need
I thought today I would have
the most to write, the most to process. Being the day after the biggest family
crisis since the car accident that caused the death of my now late aunt’s
husband 7 years ago, I assumed today would be more mellow, and I would be doing
the most thinking. Doing the most thinking usually means doing the most
writing.
Instead, all of my thinking
is on love. The things people do for love are crazy and incredible; love carries
such a power over decisions and life, and I wonder about why humanity is so
driven by love. The biologist in me thinks there must be some evolutionary
benefit for this scramble of hormones that carries the power to lift up, and
the power to destroy.
In the middle of heartbreak
beyond belief, so many people have stood up to aid my family members. Meals are
being brought to my grandma, who is going to take over care for my cousins, and
flowers are being delivered every few hours. It warms my heart to see the
emotional support that my dad is receiving from coworkers, friends, and even
distant relatives. These people love my dad, and are here for his every need as
he grieves for his sister.
Love is all over the place.
My home is dripping with the evidences of love as family members come in to
begin the difficult process of grieving over a relative, a loved one no one
expected to lose any time soon. Neighbors, members of the church my aunt went
to, and members of the church my parents attend, have offered to do everything
from cooking for the funeral to cleaning my aunt’s house so that my grandma and
cousins can start a life there without my aunt present physically. These are
such blessings, such expressions of love.
I am leaving for California
on Monday now, staying through the weekend to attend the funeral, see my mom
off to Haiti for a work trip with the non-profit organization she writes for,
and hopefully help ease the confusion I know my dad is feeling. With tomorrow
being the day I was supposed to leave, I am still so grateful that I was not
already gone for this crisis. I am so excited to get back to the sunshine and
my boyfriend, but these are the moments that define a family.
(Thursday May 31) Thankful
Resolve
If I could have left
earlier, and not been around for all of this to unfold, my heart would be even
more broken than it already is for my family members. To see a glimmer of joy
in my grandpa’s eyes when he gets to sit with at least some of his grandkids
after so much death around him is beyond worth delaying my trip back to
California. As much as I am dying to get back to the sun, dying to see my
boyfriend, and dying to see my friends, I couldn’t imagine being gone for this
weekend. The goodbye that will be said at the memorial service this weekend I
am hopeful will help with the closure everyone in the family needs from a
sudden death.
I thought I would have tons
to process by today, and that by now I would be full of words of wisdom from
all the thinking I’ve done. Instead, I’m baffled by how fast life is over. One
can work so hard, providing for a family, striving to be the best in a
profession, making money, and within seconds one organ stops working and the
rest shut down. Just like that, “life” is done. All that you worked for is
useless in one perspective. They say live life to the fullest because you never
know when it’s done, and that is so true, but what could make a life full of
worth if you disappear unexpectedly? Is it the amount of people you blessed
with love? Is it the amount of money you made? Did you sacrifice enough? Did you
heal enough? How does one measure the worth of a life?
I thought I would have more
to say, that I would have processed more by today but in reality my sadness for
my family members has just increased. My heart breaks more every day for my
grandpa and the loss he has suffered in the past few months. The heartbreak of
a parent losing a child is an occurrence I will never have words to describe. Eventually
I’m sure I will have wisdom from all of this mess of pain, but for now, I am
solely thankful for the presence of family members—maybe that’s my wisdom.
