Wiggles.

So you don't know this because I haven't exactly been doing a good job keeping up with this here blog, but I have recently climbed out of the deepest depression of my lifetime. It couldn't have come at a (worse)(better) time, since I am living with my parents and 20 year old brother, have 2 kids, a full time job, a new career as a literacy coach, a confused and concerned husband and so on and so forth, but alas, here it was.

Last March, my 23 year old cousin died. It was(is) the most unspeakably tragic thing that has ever happened to me or my family.

I have been blessed to have not been touched by death in such a way up until now...when I was 14, my best friend in the world's father died. That was awful and tragic and out of nowhere too, but in a different way. I went through it WITH her, more for her than for myself. When my grandfather died, it was heartbreaking but slightly expected. And I had moments of closure for both of these deaths...when Mr. L died, that night I had this overwhelming sense of peace wash over me...I truly believe that it was his spirit or soul or whatever giving me strength to be there for C. With my grandfather...well, the last night I visited him in the nursing home, he looked right into my eyes and KNEW ME (he had dementia). He said "Hi, Jess!" and it has helped me cope with his death immensely...he saw me, knew me, spoke to me, and that was the last time I saw him. I had that to remember, that brief moment of clarity, and again, I had peace.

This time...this shit was different.

Tommy was...well, he was amazing. He was just a pure soul, full of light and beauty. He had the most infectious smile. He was always, always kind, always full of humor, always made everyone feel good. We hadn't been close as kids (he was a lot younger than me, about 9 years)but when he turned 18, we hung out. We somehow got him into bars, got drunk, did shots, laughed our asses off, did more shots, ended up in a beautiful hotel room, sick and hung over and just reminiscing about the crazy nights before.

I have kids, so I wasn't hanging out regularly, but those times when I was out, and suddenly he appeared with his sister, were some of the most memorable nights of my life. He just had this quality about him, this special something, the "it" factor if you will.

He worked with my brother. They hung out a lot. He was close to my sister and brother in law; they'd go to Mets games, Brittney Spears concerts, N'Sync concerts, and hang out all the time. I wasn't so close with him, but he held a special, golden plated place in my heart.

One night in March, Andy and I were going out for his birthday. We were going to Arrowwood, where we had gone a few times with Tommy. I texted him to come out. He said "Who is this?" I told him to put my number in his damn phone, and he said "Already done." Unfortunately he was going out with his buddies that night, but that little textual exchange has become my last communication with a person I took for granted.

 Then.

I took the afternoon off from my Teacher Leadership Institute because it was gorgeous and super-pre-spring warm. I got the girls and my camera and headed down to the beach for an impromptu photo shoot. I had just pulled into a space when my sister, Lyzz, called. She only calls when something isn't right, so right away I was on edge. We talk every single day, but in person or via text is more her thang. I could tell she was crying.

"Something really bad happened. Little Tommy's dead."

My mind went immediately to her cat, Tom. My cat had been put down mere days earlier, so cat's were on my brain. No way she could mean something else, something that could rock my world forever.

 "Oh, no, what happened?" I said in a slightly condescending voice, as I gathered up the stuff I needed for the beach. I assumed, rationally, that Tom had jumped out of her 2nd floor window. "I don't know...Daddy called and said..."

 My brain went into overdrive. Why would my dad know how her cat died? What the fuck was happening.

"Stop Lyzz, start over. What did you say?" She repeated it and I remember screaming and Juliet being pretty upset and asking "What's wrong what's wrong?" I screeched out of my space and flew home. I called my other sister up in Boston since Becky wasn't answering. I told Amie, and we freaked out together. I just kept saying "Oh my god oh my god oh my god." I was numb. It was unfathomable.

We got home and I waited on my porch for my mother. When I saw her white Taurus coming up(down?) the street, I ran to it, with  my arms open to stop. She had a big smile on her face. Later she told me I looked so cute and she was happy I was home early. Then she saw my face. I'm pretty sure I screamed at her "Little Tommy's dead!" and she pulled over, shocked.

 There are fragments of that awful night. Having a beer with Lyzz and Ryan in the kitchen, lamenting about my cousin's upcoming wedding and musing "What the fuck are they going to do? How can they go on?" We were all crying. We couldn't believe this was our life. My grandmother, usually so emotionally detached, crying in my arms. My father's cousins and aunts offering me condolences that I didn't think I deserved.

Going to the house. My aunt hugging me and saying "This sucks, Jessica." My sarcastic, funny uncle just weeping. Danielle somehow comforting ME while I cried in her arm. The tangible feeling of misery, shock, horror, sorrow and death pervading the entire house, weighing us all down. My aunt and uncle sitting on opposite sides of the couch, looking unbelievably small and defeated. My aunt, as I left, on the front stoop, surrounded by her friends and my mother, all trying to let her know they would be there for her.

The wake. The funeral home filled to capacity with friends, neighbors, family. Stuffed with flowers, team jerseys, photo collages, and silence. Never have I been to a wake where there was just silence. No chit chat, no small talk. My cousin comforting me again, assuring me that now he was happy. Me saying to my uncle that I was going to miss him so much, and him saying "We all are." My cousin from the other side of the family, who had been good friends, maybe more, with Tommy, having a hard time even walking through the door. My maternal aunts and uncles and cousins all being there. My sister who never cries breaking down in my brother in law's arms the day of the funeral. Crying so hard I almost threw up in church as my brave cousin read her eulogy from her iPad.

The sick, twisted after-funeral tradition of going out to eat after. Drinking too much red wine. Going home and crying to my mother in law. Passing out at home, waking only to mutter my fear that my children, too, would die.

Then it passed. It was sad, but it wasn't as bad as I thought.

Except that I was wrong.

 In October, we had Hurricane Sandy. On the Sunday before I was due back at work for the first time in a week, Scarlet ended up in the hospital.

She was dehydrated.
She was hooked up to an IV.

My baby was scaring the shit out of me. She was pale, lifeless.

 I shut down.

I took a FEMLA leave from school, because my doctor needed me to take her to endless doctors to find out what the hell had happened. I was to monitor her food, her diapers, even her tears.

 I was a strong mommy. But as a person, I shattered. I fell apart. Every night as I lay in bed, a phone inside my head would ring. It was always my sister, crying, on the other end of the phone. Every night I'd hear "Something really bad happened..." His pictures, right next to my bed, smiled into my eyes as I closed them, and didn't fade with the lids down.

 I stopped sleeping at night, slept all day, didn't leave my house. The mortality of seeing my baby in the hospital, seeing that it could happen to me, was too much. I was broken.

My parents were beyond themselves; my brother would try to wake me up and yelled at me every day. Everyone showed concern, but it was never enough to break through.

One day, my aunt stopped by. She is my fairy godmother, my confidant, my dear friend. Out of nowhere she says, "You know, you can go talk to someone and tell them your 23 year old cousin died. It was a really big deal." That broke through. Those 2 sentence pierced me and made me realize that yes, I felt guilty. I was unable to cope with the death of my cousin, and who the hell was I to be so crushed? But I was, and it was a big deal. And once I admitted it to myself, I was able to talk about it.

 I said something to my mom. She was taken aback by me finally opening up to what the hell was happening to me. I felt better having confessed. I began making goals.

I would talk to my grandmother about it. I would talk to my cousin, the one who was friends with him, about it. I would write about it.

On the night I went to Michael's and bought a $1 journal, I went to the beach, to the space I sat as my world was shattered. I wrote, Dear T, because I couldn't write his name. I scribbled for a while, then went home. I felt empowered. I walked to my grandmother's house. We talked.

My other aunt showed up to drop off food and offered to drive me home. She has been through depression, and my mother had obviously shared with her that I was going through...something. She said, "If you don't get depression, you don't get it. Even something as easy as emptying kitty litter is too hard to do." And there, my heart broke open. To put it is such simple terms. She understood. And somehow that was enough.

I was able to text my cousin, and she shared something really cool. As she was on the subway headed to a job interview in Manhattan it happened. "I had this weird feeling all morning. Like I felt strangely calm and not nervous and was just kinda going about my day. And then out of the thousands of songs on my iPod as I was getting off the subway and walking up to the office building, Hero* came on. I didn't lose it or cry or anything, which I normally do, I just kinda smiled and felt more at ease."(quoted from actual text). *Hero was the song (by Enrique Iglesias)that made Tommy famous amongst a small circle of admirers. He posted a ridiculously hysterical video on You Tube, of him lip syncing the song while stripping off his shirt. He did an even better re-enactment at my sister and brother in law's wedding. His sister played in at her wedding in memory. In short, it is Tommy's song.

I felt my heart was healing.

 As the New Year approached, I made goals. Not resolutions; I needed to get better, be better. On New Year's Day, I called and left messages for people who can help me, and followed through with everyone. Not everything has worked, but I have done it.

I am practicing Yoga. To get rid of my ugly 2 year over staying it's welcome baby fat, sure, but mostly to calm my mind.

 I am seeing a therapist. To help me when my  mind takes over and paralyzes me to be a rational, functioning human being.  To reassure me that it is okay to think about Tommy, that I won't break down again, because I already did. To remind me my thoughts are safe.

I attempted to see a chiropractor who is holistic and healing, but that...that not so much (I will explain in a different post, I assure you).

I am sleeping.

The best thing that has happened is that I have reached out and been in touch with my uncle. I think about my aunt and uncle every single day of my life (not every moment, not any more, but a lot). To have been able to tell him how much his son meant to me and my life was so therapeutic, and to have his honest, open response was life changing. He will never know how much his words have meant to me, and how they may have saved my life.

 I am blessed.

I was so angry at God. How the fuck can you rationalize taking away the life of such an amazing human being? Hell, I am still mad. But I'm trying to see the light, and the fact that I have so many friends and family who have been there to truly make a difference in my life is truly exceptional.

 It is still one day at a time. My aunt and uncle and cousins are going to struggle with this for the rest of their lives. I will never forget Tommy. But I will try to make his memory live on, and turn this tragety into a bright spot in my life.

 I will always love you, Wiggles. I will stand by you, forever.