I found myself ugly crying in the shower so I thought I’d finally processed some of my emotions. I always find myself being strong for everyone else, doing what is required in the situation for my family.
Holding it together so I don’t burden the people around me who love me even though they don’t have to.
It’d been a few weeks since the awful call.
I had been sitting there cross stitching Mr Resetti for Tim, talking to Nate when I my phone buzzed. A missed Facebook call from Jenny. We hadn’t spoken in years. It must be a fat finger. And then another call. My stomach drops. I message her back asking if everything is okay.
A third call and I answer.
Sobbing. My brother Chris is gone.
Just like that. Someone found him. No one knows why. Gone.
I’m numb. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to do. I jump to conclusions. I cry.
I call my mom crying. Ruin her night hell her life. Telling her that her first son is gone from this world. No I don’t know where. No I don’t know how. All I know is he’s gone.
Sure it’s the week before Christmas. It sure doesn’t feel like it though. It feels like I’m in purgatory ot Beetlejuice. Nothing makes sense.
I message my boss. I try to carry on. I cry. Nothing makes sense. I can barely function. I can’t believe it. My boss asks me to please stop trying to work. Please take time off. No it doesn’t matter that it’s the holiday and most of the staff is off. Just close the laptop. Stop going through the motions.
Deal with the emotions. Stop and actually feel them. Be there for my family.
Instead I write bad poetry. The first in years. Hell decades.