Thanatopsis...

just a need to share a personal experience

e

I've never been good at "opening up" most think my nickname stonewall is due to my incredible physical strength (which of course is part of it) however, im afraid the name can also be applied to my formidable emotional capacity that I myself can hardly break into most of the time. It is currently 3:31 in the morning of February the 24th and my insomnia has caused me to reflect upon the single most life changing event, I've ever had. Which would be as most could guess the sudden death of my step father Joe. Though my family and friends have many times looked back on all the good times we've had with him, I have never shared despite how many have opened up to me, my own intimate experience of that day. Which I have realized as I was failing to sleep has affected me more than I've realized and has allowed me and will perhaps allow you to understand me a little bit better. To no ones offenses I am writing this for me, it's just somthing I know I have to do, please don't feel like you "need" to read it or that you owe me anything, if you do read it great and I hope maybe you get as much out of it as I hope I do.

The first thing I remember of that morning are the yells. My mothers. They had had a fight the night before as was their usual routine, and I remember Joe knocking on my door to say good night and good bye, as my mother and I were moving out the next day, he promised me I could still come and stay with him whenever I wanted. As I said I woke up to my mothers yells, at first I assumed their fight had just picked up where it had left off the night before, but after a few minutes I knew something was wrong because Joe wasn't yelling back. I got out of bed as my mother came frantickly knocking on my door (I always kept it locked). I opened the door, and the look on her face assured my fears that something was terribly wrong. I walked into his bedroom and saw Joe's body lying face up on the floor. My mom was Hysterical I quickly told her to call an ambulance and tried to remember as much as I could of my 10th grade CPR class. I kneeled down next to him. I remember the color of his skin, a sickly yellow, and the feeling of cold skin on my lips as I tried to give him mouth to mouth. I remember the feeling of his shirt under my hands as I tried to start his heart again, I was so desperate but after a second I knew...and I let out a cry, my one and only cry. My mother would later confront me about how I was wrong for not crying at the wake, or the funeral, or the many visits to his grave. I didnt know how to explain to her, how I couldnt cry, how could I? the rest of those things were nothing to what I experienced at that moment that morning and nothing ever will be, knowing I was the first person to realize he was dead and there was no bringing him back, that he had families and friends who were all completely unaware of everything, how I had been asleep in my bed under the same roof at the moment Joe had taken his last breath, all at once understanding the gravity of how everything in my life was about to change, that in front of me was a corpse, it didnt even seem like Joe anymore, his body was there but he wasn't. So I let out a cry a mixture of frustration, sadness and unwanted understanding of everything that was going to have to happen. I looked to my right and saw my mother breaking down...I heard the ambulance siren finally in the drive way...and it snapped me back, I somehow became composed I ran to let Abby out so she wouldn't maul the EMT's, let them in and then tried as hard as I could to keep mom from falling apart completely, after Danny and Charlie arrived I did my best to try and explain as best I could what had happened but I couldn't, I couldn't get back to that moment on the floor it seemed some sublime experience I knew I couldn't yet translate to anyone, I barely understood myself all the things I had felt all at once. I do think back and feel ashamed at the composure that came over me after that moment that stayed despite how hard I tried to rid myself of it through out the wake and the funeral, and yet at the same time I feel it was necessary to my survival. There was a few moments I thought I was sure to lose it, mostly when I saw Danny and Megan cry, yet even then I wouldn't break despite how much I wanted to. I hate it when people call that strength becuase it wasnt. Strength would be letting my emotions flow like megan's and still being able to come back healthy like she and danny did. Though perhaps I still don't fully understand what happened to me that week. I know I was changed by it. Ever since Joe's death I have noticed changes in myself that I have never thought to attribute to that experience, and yet as I think now about it, that experience seems to be the only thing I can stem the changes back too. Most noticably that I'm sure many of my close friends have noticed is my ever increasing lapses of sanity, not to say of course they are bouts of crazyness where I think I'm an orange but the only way to describe them are moments where my brain just stops and there's no thoughts just living, just pure unfiltered living in which I just speak and act and afterwards can very seldom understand how or why they are brought about and though they usually make me look incredibly weird to those around me these moments make me feel more alive then anything I've ever done. Though i'm not sure if these moments of mine have anything to do with Joe (could always be a brain tumor I suppose) When I think back on his life I immediatly remember how despite all the hard knocks he was given right until his death and the depression I know he constantly struggled with I see those rare moments when he was so inspired just by being alive, his talk about the many times unrealistic plans he had for the future or the incredibly ridiculous and im sure many times exaggerated tales of his adolescence, I can still recognize these moments because of that sparkle of his eye, or the teethy grin as he held a bottle of Budweiser and I can hear his booming laugh that I swear came right from the depths of his soul, and I think sometimes maybe my "brain lapse" moments are Joe's way of reaching out to me and though its just for a few seconds inspiring me with the same passion for life I saw him have on rare occaisions. Of course this seems like a completely ridiculous thought that I've just come up with to give an excuse for my sporadic insanity and it is much more likely that no such thing is occuring but God, I hope it is.

I'd just like to add, that this is the most personal thing I've ever done, but I don't want anyone to confuse this with me trying to "reach out", I put this on facebook becuase I know there are people who I know were just as much affected by Joe's death as I was and they deserve to hear my story if they want to. Also maybe I want to show people that even Stonewall feels...though now that I look back on this note, I think its pretty clear who its meant for.

Reviews

[Vesa Lee]

Since this a personal piece, and more of a small biography than a formal writing piece, I will only suggest that you break it up a bit more (smaller paragraphs) so as to make the piece smoother and easier to read.
Other than that, this was very heart felt.
I can tell how much you were effected by this man, his life and, unfortunately, his death.
Well done.