July 6, 2017 wasn’t a normal day.
Joey and I were at the beach, our first vacation kid-free since before we were married. The night before , my sister-in-law (who was keeping our girls) had said our littles were having a hard time missing us- and our oldest had a cough. Sure enough, that morning of the 6th, she asked us to come home.
We quickly packed and hit the road for the 6.5 hour drive home. I was bummed, I wasn’t ready to leave the bliss of beach life- and we were supposed to be celebrating my 30th birthday (July 7) on the beach. But, I did miss my girls, bad! Maybe more than they missed me. So , homeward bound.
When we got home we threw our luggage in the house, all changed in to swim suits, and took our girls to the neighborhood pool. It was still kinda early in the day and we wanted to have some fun with them after being apart so long.
30 minutes later I realized I had a few missed calls from my old boss, then a text- so I called back. She let me know my brother’s fiancé had rushed out of work (she works where I previously did) something was going on with my brother, and she thought I should know. I called my mom (who was at the beach with friends) to see what was up, no answer. I put the phone down and kinda thought hard for a minute. I was sure everything was fine... but I called my Pawpaw anyways.
“Hey Pawpaw! Just wanted to check in, everything ok?”
And that’s when my world changed.
“Kelly... I’m so sorry. I don’t want to tell you this over the phone... Jason. He passed away.”
Shock.
I started screaming, crying. Sobbing. Big, loud, animal sounding sobs. Joey and the girls were confused, I just yelled at Joey we had to go. He came to me and held me- I just stood there, in front of everyone at the pool, shaking, and crying: “Jasons DEAD!”
We loaded up the car, I could not stop sobbing. The girls were panicking, crying, asking me what was wrong. This was the first time they’ve ever seen me cry. “I’m okay, mommy is okay, everything is fine.”
We got in to the house, I pulled clothes out of my unpacked luggage and threw them on. I told Joey to stay with the girls, and I left. I went to my dads house. From there, I went to my Pawpaw’s house- where Jason was.
All the while trying to get my mom on the phone. Then, she answered. And I quickly realized I was going to be the one to tell her, her son died. And she’s 8 hours away. I will never, ever forget that moment. That conversation. It hurts just to think about it.
The drive to my paw paws I just kept sobbing and screaming out loud “oh God! Oh God!” Over and over again. Then all of a sudden I stopped crying, and out loud said “it’s okay. He’s fine. It’s just a mistake. I’ll get there and we’ll all see, it’s a misunderstanding.” I dried my tears and felt a sense of calm wash over me.
I pulled up to the house. Family was there. The police were there.
I walked inside and went straight to my Pawpaw, who hugged me so tight “I’m so sorry Kelly. I’m so sorry Baby”.
“Where is he?”, I said.
“He’s in his room, but I don’t know that you want to go in,” said my uncle.
“I can’t go, I haven’t gone in.” - Paw paw
I quietly walked out of the room, and opened the door to my brothers room.
Slowly, cause I was scared to look. But I had to look. I had to see. I had convinced myself it was a misunderstanding.
There he was.
I broke down.
He looked asleep. The tv was on, the remote was right by his hand. It looked like he’d just fallen asleep watching tv.
Except for his mouth. There was foam coming out of his mouth, bubbles popping as the air escaped out of his body.
My big brother. My only brother. Gone.
I went in and out of that room several times, I couldn’t bear to see him, but I had to see, all at the same time.
The funeral home was a surreal experience.
Making arrangements, for my big brother. Sitting at the table with the funeral home director, my dad and his wife, my mom, and my brother's fiance'. My mom got up a couple times crying, leaving the room to try and calm down. My dad sat there silently, focused. My almost sister-in-law was asking lots of questions, taking notes. I sat there, angry. Heartbroken, quiet.
What day? what time? which casket? what music? who would speak? who do we pick for ushers? So many details, so many decisions to be made.
A different day, Josie and I sat with the funeral home director, trying to pick out 50 pictures. Sounds like a lot, but it wasn't enough. That limited number was so difficult. How do you pick only 50 pictures of someone you love? How do you condense 32 years in to just 50 pictures? As we sat there digging through pictures, the funeral home director came in again. To discuss the visitation. He began telling us, that in his professional opinion he would not advise that we have an open casket because of how Jason looked. Josie and I looked at each other confused. What does that mean? How he looks?
He began to tell us, ' We worked on him for a long time. They were here until late last night, working several hours. They did the best they could, but I don't think we need to have an open casket. I would also advise the family not to view him. Now, if you really want to, I can set that up privately for you, but again: I don't think it is a good idea.'
I don't understand. I saw him, not that long ago....right after he passed. Aside from the foam in his mouth- he looked asleep, he looked like Jason. What is he talking about?
He continued,' Due to the heroine use, he...'
"I'm sorry, WHAT? Heroine? Jason didn't do heroine." I interrupted.
He looked me in the eye, and began again, ' In my experience, his body looks exactly like others I've seen that pass due to a heroine over dose. He is very swollen, very blue. I'm sorry. But again, in my experience- this is what it is. Heroine. I think it would be very upsetting for you all to see him this way. I think it best you remember him as he was when he was alive."
Shock. Anger. Fury. Confusion.
I don't understand. Jason didn't do heroine. He was an alcoholic. For years he has been an alcoholic. We thought he passed due to taking what he thought was Xanax, but ended up containing Fentanyl. Where di heroin even come from? He never even smoked weed, he didn't do drugs. This makes no sense.
Now it dawns on me, that I wouldn't get to see my brother again. I had been trying to prepare myself for the dreaded closing of the casket right before the funeral was to begin. I remember losing it when they closed the casket at my granny's funeral. I knew it would be hard. But now? Now I'm being told I won't see him again, that I can see him again....but shouldn't.
And then I realize- we have to tell my parents. How can I possibly hit them both, yet again, with another heartbreak? My mom never got to see him. The last time my dad saw him, was when he was lying on his bed- gone. How do I tell them we shouldn't see him again, how do I tell them there is now speculation of heroin use?
The day of the funeral, my mom and Josie decided to have them open the casket to see him, with his face covered. My dad opted not to, he said he did his goodbyes at the scene when Jason was first found. I went back and forth over and over again. I wanted to see him. But, I was also scared to see him. I couldn't bear the thought of never seeing him again, yet I was scared of what I would see. My husband pleaded with me not to do it. I was already having a hard time picturing his lifeless body laying on the bed. Gone. I was already staring in the mirror, and seeing his face instead of mine. My husband was sure it was a bad idea. In the end, I opted not to see him. Which realistically, was probably the right decision. Yet, I've regretted it every day since.
When we were preparing for the visitation, I was the first to arrive. The Funeral Director lead me to the room, and shut the doors. I found myself alone, staring at a closed casket, with a slide show of the pictures we had picked out playing in the background. I just stared. No way my big brother was in that casket, it just didn't feel real. I wanted to see him, to touch him. I just stood on the opposite side of the room, as far away as I could, staring at the casket. I turned to look at the slide show....bad idea. Just a few pictures in I felt the tears come, so I turned around and shut my eyes, forcing the tears away. My parents would be here any minute, I needed to be strong and keep it together. One side of the room was the casket, the other side was the slide show. There was nowhere I could look that didn't hurt. Flowers everywhere, pictures displayed all over. I couldn't breath. I sat down and put my head in my hands, playing it all over again in my head, the chaos of the last couple days. My mom came in, and broke down. Josie came in, and broke down. I just stood there, in a daze, just stood and watched. There, but not really there.
I spent the next 4.5 hours hugging people, saying "Thanks so much for coming, did you see my Mom? Did you see my Dad?" over and over again to dozens and dozens of people. Every time I turned around someone was grabbing me, hugging me, shaking my hand, rubbing my back. I didn't cry once. I plastered a smile on my face, and thanked people over and over again. My cousin Christina must have seen it all over my face, or maybe somewhere in my eyes- she came over "Hey Kel, your mom is looking for you, out this way." Pulled me away, and smiled at me. She could see I was drowning, I needed a break. I walked quickly outside in to the fresh air, and took a breath. Closed my eyes. I felt like I needed a shower. I felt like I needed to breath deep. I felt like I was going to crack. I was so busy comforting visitors, and making sure my parents were okay- constantly scanning the room to check on them both. I was so busy playing hostess. I was trying to be strong, I was trying to handle it. I didn't want to do it anymore, I just couldn't breath. At one point I actually found myself scanning the room, looking for Jason. I literally forgot, and I was looking for my big brother. He knew how much I hated things like that, how hard it was for me. I'd normally seek him out, lean in to him, and just take a breath. We'd talk, he'd make jokes, we'd escape for a few minutes.
But he wasn't there, because this was his funeral.
He wasn't there. But yet, he was. He was in that casket, right? That casket right there, the closed one, the one people are pouring over- touching, rubbing, crying in front of, staring at. He was in there, wasn't he? But he couldn't be. My mind just couldn't process that.
October 7, 2017
My brother is dead.
I say it to myself frequently through out the day. Never out loud, I can’t stand to say the words “dead” or “died”. But my thoughts, inside, always say it.
My brother is dead.
It’s like my brain reminding me constantly throughout the day. Every time those words creep in to my mind my heart breaks a little more.
Suddenly an only child, my big brother is gone. He isn’t coming back. This really is happening.
It really happened.
Today is the first time since my brother passed away, that I thought about dying. About killing myself.
The thing is, I won’t. I’m not worried I will. However, I am worried that the thought even popped in to my head.
It’s Saturday. My husband is camping with friends- I’ve known about it for weeks now but have been dreading it. I’ve never liked when he’s away, probably left over from his army days when he was deployed for 15 months to Iraq. But since Jason, I panic about being alone.
As soon as he left yesterday the anxiety set it, I began texting any and everyone asking what their plans were.
I’m scared of being alone. Dreading having to step up and be THE parent this weekend. I have great kids, they aren’t the issue, I am.
Earlier I tried laying them down for naps, and I was going to nap too. Instead my five year old kept trying to sneak downstairs to watch tv. I was pissed, furious. But I didn’t flip out, I didn’t yell. I calmly talked to her about it. And then, I just started crying. I’ve held it in for months now. And I was trying so hard to hold it back, the lump in my throat felt like razor blades. I finally told her to go down stairs and watch tv cause I knew I was about to lose it, that’s not fair. It’s not fair for her to witness mommy breaking down.
I quickly texted my mom: ‘ I got so angry at Adelynn, and I didn’t flip out or yell. I calmly talked to her. She’s in my bed now cause I’ve been trying for an hour and a half to get her to lay down, penny is asleep.
And I can’t stop crying. And it’s freaking her out. And I’m not sure what to do. I’m just at a loss! Like I’ve officially lost my mind or something. It’s not fair to her. I’m venting to you cause I don’t want joey to feel bad about being gone.’
I laid there and just thought, I could kill myself.
Although I instantly knew I wouldn’t. Couldn’t. I love my girls, I love my husband. I can’t bear the thought of doing that to them, of never seeing them again.
This is when I realize, I need help. But who do I call? I realize it’s silly to call my husband- I’m not going to hurt myself. And he deserves, MORE than deserves a weekend away. I think hard about calling my mother-in-law... but more often than not they have grand kids at their house. So, if they don’t have kids there today, I sure as hell don’t want to be the one to drop my kids off with them, they deserve time to themselves.
I go smoke, for probably the 15th time so far today. Check the mail, and surprise: two of my favorites things- Lularoe clothes and a bottle of essential oil, both free! Both gifts from friends. I think ‘huh. Wonder what they’d think if they knew I got these on a day I thought about killing myself.’
I wander around the house, with anxious and scary thoughts. I start cleaning the playroom. I realize I’m hungry, cause I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday. But, I don’t feel like eating. So I get some water.
It’s days like these that the realistic side of me worries about the unhinged side of me. It’s a constant battle between two halves of my self.
The anger stage of grief.
For me it means, being split in half.
One half: HULK. Angry. Furious. Short fuse. No tolerance. No patience. No filter.
The other half: aware of the first half. Aware it's a symptom. Aware I shouldn't lash out. Aware I need to keep my mouth shut when those angry words want to spew. Aware everyone is NOT fighting me. Aware I NEED to get it under control.
I'm angry. All the time. At everyone, and everything. There is a constant battle in my mind of these two halves of me. I'm currently broken. And trying like hell to keep it together.
It's been (almost) 3 months since my brother passed away. I suffered two major losses (Granny & Jason) in 11 months. I totally fell apart. It takes all I have to get out of bed and function. I hurt, all the time.
I want to not care, I want to get over it, I want to move on, I want to be happy.
But I am totally broken. I don't know how to "do this", or how to fix it. I know, I know- time heals. But I need it to hurry up. I liked the shock/denial stage much better.
I’m thankful I haven’t gone so far over the edge that I’d be unable to take care of my girls. They luckily have no idea what’s going on with me, haven’t noticed any kind of difference, it’s just another Saturday for them. Thank God.
This version of myself showing its face today, worries me. I worry for myself, and feel incredibly alone. I’m realizing more than ever today just how much I’ve been relying on my husband. To take point on parenting and help me with the kids. To be sure I eat. To just be here.
October 8, 2017
I wrote a suicide note yesterday. That was a first. I was sitting on the couch, while my kids played in the play room. I picked up my phone, and just started typing.
The tears came, my heart broke. This was rock bottom.
‘I love you. I’m sorry.
I’m tired of feeling crazy. Of trying to keep it together.
I’m tired of being broke. I don’t want to worry about money anymore.
I’m tired of being a bad wife.
The girls deserve a better mom. A happier mom. A mom with patience. A mom who does fun things with them. A mom that doesn’t worry so much about a clean house and gets down on the floor and plays.
All three of you deserve better.
I’ve known I need help for a while now. But, we can’t afford therapy. We can’t afford for me to have a nervous break down and end up out of work and locked in some facility. We can’t afford for me to get better.
I know you’ll be upset, because I know that you love me. And oh, how I love you. I always have, no matter what, with my whole heart. You are my best friend. I could never imagine living my life with anyone else.
But I want you to. I want you to be blissfully happy. I want you to enjoy your life. I don’t want you to have to carry me anymore. You deserve so much more than I’ve given you the last 10 years.
I love you babe, forever.’
I quietly cried on the couch, wondering how I got here. And, more importantly, where do I go from here?
I thought about calling someone, to come. To come take the girls. Or to just come be here, stay with us. I ran through the list of people I could call. But, each person I came to... I found a reason not to call.
Joey? No. He’s camping. He deserves this. He needs time away. If I call him he’ll rush home. And I will have once again ruined something for him.
My mom? No. She’s working. She needs the money right now, she’s fighting with all she’s got to keep custody of my niece. She just lost her son. She’s taking care of her dad. She has enough on her plate.
My mother-in-law? No. She would do it, if I explained. But, she and Dad deserve a quiet weekend together.
Anne Marie? No. Her husband is deployed. She’s alone. She’s about to have a new baby any day. She’s got more than a full plate. And she’s in Pittsburgh. But she’d call Joey. Or Ashley. She’d call someone.
As I’m running through the list, silently crying so my kids don’t hear- my best friend Brittany FaceTimes me. I let it ring. I think for a second about answering... but I don’t. I let it ring.
I put my phone down, and wipe my tears. I can’t think about it anymore. I’m just so tired.
It’s Sunday. I haven’t showered since Thursday. I haven’t eaten. I’m tired. But, Joey comes home today. He’ll be here soon, and it’ll all be okay. It’ll go away, it’ll go back to normal. He’ll be here to help me.
I can’t tell him about this.
October 10, 2017
I told Joey about the letter.
Kicking myself now cause he’s upset and worried.
It’s a Tuesday morning, our normal morning of waking up late scrambling to get the girls ready and to daycare.
I spent that time snapping at both girls, just being mean. That’s not the kind of mommy I want to be, they just don’t deserve it. And all I’ve been lately is mean. I hate it.
As soon as we pull out of the driveway I feel the tears come. I’ve got to get my shit together. I don’t want them seeing me cry, I can’t be that crazy mom walking in to daycare crying.
I call Joey after to tell him about an issue with daycare, and quickly get off the phone cause I can’t hold back the tears. He texts me right away, he could hear I was upset.
And it just all came gushing out. I told him I needed help, quickly. I told him about the letter I wrote. I told him I wouldn’t do anything stupid, so he didn’t need to worry...
He’s worried.
I’m falling apart, right this second.
But I have to go to work. How funny is that? Here I am crying in my car, telling my husband I thought about ending my life..and I’m most concerned with getting to work on time.
It’s time to do something, immediately. For my family, cause God they don’t deserve this.
January 2020
I re-read the above, and tear up. I feel so sad for that version of Kelly. So hurt, confused, lost, angry, hopeless. This was 100% my rock bottom moment, and somehow I thought to document it all.
Just days after this weekend, I was let go from my job. Another hit, that I took very hard A couple months later, we lost my Paw Paw. It seemed to be one thing after another. I just couldn't seem to get on top of things.
I was drinking myself sick- as in, I would drink and drink and drink until I was physically ill. I did this almost nightly, while also just flat out not eating. For someone with Alcoholism in their family, whom made sure to NOT turn out as an addict...I was well on my way.
I look back now and am so thankful I'm here today. I'm so thankful I reached out to my husband, mom, friends for help-that I finally spoke up. I finally got some help and began working on turning things around.
I am in a much better place now, thank God. I still have my moments of crying over my brother, I think I probably always will. Sometimes it hurts so badly I can't take it. However, I'm no longer in that dark place of quite literally not wanting to breathe anymore.
Grief is a very hard place to live in. I'm just grateful I managed to come out on the other side of it, since very clearly there was a time I didn't think I ever would.
I love you so much Kelly. Thank you.
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