My brother and April 18, 2008: Part 1

This Sunday will mark the 3rd "anniversary" of one of the worst days of my life.  Hopefully there will be none worse than it.  I have so many thoughts surrounding this event that it's hard to know where to start.

Friday, April 18, 2008...I was waiting in the carpool line to pick up Jack and a friend.  He's the little guy I nannied for at the time.  He was having a playdate that afternoon.  We were going to the park to play and then home for snack and Jack's mom, Laura, was going to be home earlier than usual.  My phone rang while I was waiting, it was Laura.  She said she was on her way home at the moment and to just bring the boys there.  Her daughter was coming home early from a week long camp and she wanted to be there to meet her and start the weekend early.  I was thinking that it sounded perfect, because my weekend could start early too!

As we pulled up to Jack's house, I noticed Chad's car sitting outside his house.  I thought nothing of it- maybe he had planned to surprise me with a visit, a dinner, or something.  I was not prepared for the surprise he had.  The boys jumped out of my car, and Laura came out the front door and rushed them inside.  Chad stepped out of his car and I almost ran to him.  I was so excited to see him and also know that I was finished working for the day!  He walked towards me.  I'm still so excited to see him that I'm not noticing the solemn look on his face.  I greet him with a kiss and energetically asked what he's up to.  Then I realize, "This is not good".  He can't really look at me, but says words I'll never forget.

"It's DJ."

"What about him?"  I thought he was in an accident, got arrested or something similar.

"...he killed himself."

I froze.  Time froze.  I instantly comprehended what he was saying and the visuals in my head went overboard.  I knew he was gone.  There was no denial.  No misunderstanding.  Just sheer pain and incredible guilt.  Instantly.  I melted and cried.  We walked inside Jack's house.  Laura was standing inside and I went to her immediately.  She hugged me and told us to take all the time we needed at the house.  We sat in the living room and I remember staring out the window trying to answer all the questions that were swirling in my head.

"How did he do it?" I asked Chad.  I'm sure that's one question he didn't want to answer.
"Shotgun, I think." was all he said.  That was enough for me.
I wanted to throw up.  I wanted to hide.  I wanted to die.  I have NEVER felt a pain like that before.  An emotional pain that hurts so much you can feel it in your bones.

We sat for a few more minutes and then I wanted to be in Farmington with my family.  NOW.  We said our goodbyes to Laura.  I told her I'd call her in a few days and let her know what was happening.  Then we got in my car, headed home to pack and make the hour drive to Farmington.

When we got to our townhouse, I remember walking inside and trying to focus on what clothes to take with me.  I stood outside our little laundry room, trying to pick out an outfit or 2 and just melted into the floor.  I became a weeping pile.  Chad came and sat with me while I cried and got angry about not having anything to take.  We finally grabbed the essentials and decided we'd go shopping for anything else we needed.

It was raining.  A pathetic, cold, depressing rain as we drove.  I called Donita to check on her and get what little details she had.  She was rather together, as she'd had a little more time to process than I had at this point.  She said he was found that morning, but had done it the afternoon before.  I was so angry that my little brother had been dead for more than 12 hours and no one knew it.  I felt like I should've known.  I should've felt it.  I felt like it was my fault that he had laid there, alone.  Alone.  I was so angry at myself.

We drove what felt like 25 MPH to Farmington.  We got to my sister's house where she and my dad were.  They were so still.  We talked about the details.  When did it happen, how was he found, who found out first... All the pointless information that seems so vital in the moment.

My biggest worry was "Was he scared? Did he have doubts in that last split second?"

The next few days went by in a blur.   There were hundreds of people.  Tons of flowers.  Lots of tears.  We had the option of seeing him during our family visitation.  Without seeing him, we knew we'd never believe it.  The funeral home told us that they tried to "reconstruct" as much as possible, but were not able to.   For us, his tattoo served as closure.  The visitation, the funeral, the gravesite, the cleaning out of his belongings, the questions, the grief, the guilt.  It was all part of the process and the worst week of my life.

There are days that are still as paralyzing as April 18, 2008. There are days when I can't forgive myself for moving away and leaving him after mom died.  Days when I beat myself up for not asking more questions of him when I knew something wasn't right.  There have been days when I just wanted to die with him.

But those days are coming fewer and far between.  I definitely believe that God takes our pain and helps us create strength from it.  Only He knows how much pain we've endured.  This life hurdle can be used to help others.  It has taught me to not take anything for granted, to appreciate love, to be more understanding of other peoples' circumstances and to treat today as though it may be your last. It has made me a better mother, because I never want my children to doubt how much they are loved, how special they are and how much better they can make this world.

We are here for a reason.  We are here for a season.  With God, nothing is impossible.