Death -- what is there to say? It sucks. It always sucks. It's inevitable, unavoidable, and unwaverable. Death cannot be argued with. It's non-judgemental -- it takes the deserving, the undeserving, and the just plain unlucky. Death is a natural part of life, and we all have or will experience it. We're all going to die, in time.
Some deaths, though, are much harder to handle than others. Take this past weekend, for example. Friday night, Bob from Life Misled had a big party for his brother's return from the Navy. Lots of people showed up; there was beirut, plenty of alcohol, and even snowball throwing. A really fun time, all in all, and I didn't even get to sleep until about 7 am (getting up at 10 and working a double shift was awful, but totally worth it).
Anywho, the following night after work, I returned to my boyfriend's empty apartment -- he left that morning to visit family in Chicago and New York for the holidays -- turned on the television for background noise and plopped down at the computer. One of my closer friends IMed me, telling me to call her because she had something important to tell me and didn't want to do it over the internet. I moaned and groaned a bit, because I'm not big on phone chatting, but eventually I agreed.
I thought it was strange when she asked me if the guy "Munky" on my top ten MySpace friends was my brother. "Yep, that's him," I said with a grin, thinking she ran into him somewhere and had a story about it. I was holding the phone to my ear with my shoulder and trying to dump some water out of my Easy Mac without spilling any of the pasta when I heard her say, "Sweetie... your brother... he died last night." Thinking back now, I actually laughed a little, one of those exhalation laughs that come right before you say, "... What?"
She explained what had happened and expressed her repeated condolances, along with many offers to come comfort me and suggestions to go home so I didn't spend the night alone. I promised I would and quickly had to get off the phone, because I was starting to choke up and hate anyone witnessing my tears. Afterwards, I returned to the computer to check my brother's myspace, and was shocked to see R.I.P.s and "we'll miss you"s littering his comments.
All I could think was that it was a joke, just an awful, cruel joke, and I'd have to kick his butt later for being such a dick. "That's not even funny, Matt!" I'd yell, and give him a girly slap or two in the arm, then I'd lose my facade and start laughing, too.
That's the way my big brother was, always happy and always good at making other people happy. It could be the worst day of your life, and my brother could make you feel human again without even trying. He was so laid-back, so easy to get along with, and -- even though I don't frequently use the word -- just so damn chill. I think that's the best way to describe him. My brother was really fucking chill.
The very worst thing about it was that he didn't do anything reckless or make any stupid decision -- it was his asthma. He's always had really bad asthma, but I guess lately it had been particularly awful. He even left me a myspace comment in August that went as follows: "yea actually things have been kinda bad lately...i had the worst asthma attack i've ever had in my life, i even had to call 911. i lost ALL lung function in my sleep and woke up to not being able to breathe at all. the doctor told me if the paramedics had taken 5 minutes longer i would've passed out from lack of oxygen and i would've died :( it totally changed my life, no more smokin, no more construction work, ima go back to school for computers and get an office job...what a close call..."
Some deaths, though, are much harder to handle than others. Take this past weekend, for example. Friday night, Bob from Life Misled had a big party for his brother's return from the Navy. Lots of people showed up; there was beirut, plenty of alcohol, and even snowball throwing. A really fun time, all in all, and I didn't even get to sleep until about 7 am (getting up at 10 and working a double shift was awful, but totally worth it).
Anywho, the following night after work, I returned to my boyfriend's empty apartment -- he left that morning to visit family in Chicago and New York for the holidays -- turned on the television for background noise and plopped down at the computer. One of my closer friends IMed me, telling me to call her because she had something important to tell me and didn't want to do it over the internet. I moaned and groaned a bit, because I'm not big on phone chatting, but eventually I agreed.
I thought it was strange when she asked me if the guy "Munky" on my top ten MySpace friends was my brother. "Yep, that's him," I said with a grin, thinking she ran into him somewhere and had a story about it. I was holding the phone to my ear with my shoulder and trying to dump some water out of my Easy Mac without spilling any of the pasta when I heard her say, "Sweetie... your brother... he died last night." Thinking back now, I actually laughed a little, one of those exhalation laughs that come right before you say, "... What?"
She explained what had happened and expressed her repeated condolances, along with many offers to come comfort me and suggestions to go home so I didn't spend the night alone. I promised I would and quickly had to get off the phone, because I was starting to choke up and hate anyone witnessing my tears. Afterwards, I returned to the computer to check my brother's myspace, and was shocked to see R.I.P.s and "we'll miss you"s littering his comments.
All I could think was that it was a joke, just an awful, cruel joke, and I'd have to kick his butt later for being such a dick. "That's not even funny, Matt!" I'd yell, and give him a girly slap or two in the arm, then I'd lose my facade and start laughing, too.
That's the way my big brother was, always happy and always good at making other people happy. It could be the worst day of your life, and my brother could make you feel human again without even trying. He was so laid-back, so easy to get along with, and -- even though I don't frequently use the word -- just so damn chill. I think that's the best way to describe him. My brother was really fucking chill.
The very worst thing about it was that he didn't do anything reckless or make any stupid decision -- it was his asthma. He's always had really bad asthma, but I guess lately it had been particularly awful. He even left me a myspace comment in August that went as follows: "yea actually things have been kinda bad lately...i had the worst asthma attack i've ever had in my life, i even had to call 911. i lost ALL lung function in my sleep and woke up to not being able to breathe at all. the doctor told me if the paramedics had taken 5 minutes longer i would've passed out from lack of oxygen and i would've died :( it totally changed my life, no more smokin, no more construction work, ima go back to school for computers and get an office job...what a close call..."
I guess this time, it was so bad that even his prednisone didn't help. Jenelle, his best friend whom he loved more than anyone, was with him, and she was the one who called 911. It was so bad that she called twice, the second time to tell them to hurry, because she was sure he was dying. She tried his nebulizer, but he couldn't hold it to his face, and shortly after, he collapsed on the floor. Jenelle said his face was purple, his fingers were blue, and he was foaming from the mouth. She kept telling him she loved him and he would be okay; he kept telling her that he was scared and he wasn't ready to die.
According to the girl, he was dead before they loaded him into the ambulance.
Now, I've dealt with family deaths before. My uncle Jerry, my aunt Shirley, and my mom. My mother's death was, obviously, very awful and entirely life changing, but I honestly think it was easier to handle because we had all been expecting it. She'd been diagnosed with sclerosis of the liver several years prior and, completely ignoring the doctor's warnings, she continued drinking her 101 proof peppermint schnapps. So while it was a horrible tragedy, it was easy to just be angry with her, because she did it to herself. She knew what the alcohol was doing to her, and she kept drinking anyway, knowing she would die and not caring.
(To be fair, I should probably mention that I think, in the end, she did regret it. It was in her eyes the last time I saw her, though she couldn't say so with the tube in her throat.)
Matt's death, though, was wholly unexpected and entirely unfair. Death doesn't take fairness into account. You can't negotiate death away by reasoning how awesome your brother is, how everyone loves him, or how it's just not his time; he has so much left to do, so much going for him in the future. Death is a bitch, and when my time comes, I'm going to fight hard and show the reaper that I don't approve of him sneaking up on people.
If I could please have everyone's attention (or at least, that of those who've lasted this long): I'd like you all to raise your glasses to my big brother, Matt. He was one of the better people in this world of assholes. Everyone loved him, and everyone will miss him dearly. It's not fair, and it's hit us hard, but we'll continue on, because that's the way he would've wanted it.
According to the girl, he was dead before they loaded him into the ambulance.
Now, I've dealt with family deaths before. My uncle Jerry, my aunt Shirley, and my mom. My mother's death was, obviously, very awful and entirely life changing, but I honestly think it was easier to handle because we had all been expecting it. She'd been diagnosed with sclerosis of the liver several years prior and, completely ignoring the doctor's warnings, she continued drinking her 101 proof peppermint schnapps. So while it was a horrible tragedy, it was easy to just be angry with her, because she did it to herself. She knew what the alcohol was doing to her, and she kept drinking anyway, knowing she would die and not caring.
(To be fair, I should probably mention that I think, in the end, she did regret it. It was in her eyes the last time I saw her, though she couldn't say so with the tube in her throat.)
Matt's death, though, was wholly unexpected and entirely unfair. Death doesn't take fairness into account. You can't negotiate death away by reasoning how awesome your brother is, how everyone loves him, or how it's just not his time; he has so much left to do, so much going for him in the future. Death is a bitch, and when my time comes, I'm going to fight hard and show the reaper that I don't approve of him sneaking up on people.
If I could please have everyone's attention (or at least, that of those who've lasted this long): I'd like you all to raise your glasses to my big brother, Matt. He was one of the better people in this world of assholes. Everyone loved him, and everyone will miss him dearly. It's not fair, and it's hit us hard, but we'll continue on, because that's the way he would've wanted it.
I'm sorry you had to go so early and in such a hard way, but know that we'll never forget you.
As for remembering him, I think he said it best:
"Memories....
I remember sitting in ur room playing Darius Twins...
I remember going to the beach and going swimming with u and mum...
I remember playing with the ouija board in our back yard...
I remember mum's delicious swedish meatballs....
I remember being inseperable and the best of friends, luv ya sis :0)"
And Matt, the next drink I order will be a Grateful Dead, just for you.
R.I.P. Matthew Paul Stebbins
July 2, 1983 - December 21, 2007
I love you.
I'm sorry
I heard about the bad news today
A crowd of people around you
Telling you it's okay
And everything happens for a reason
When you lose a part of your self
To somebody you know
It takes a lot to let go
Every breath that you remember
Pictures fade away
But memory is forever
An empty chair at all the tables
And I'll be seeing you when all my days boil down
But it's better where you're going anyway
I'm sorry
I heard about the bad news today
It's really hard to get through
Tough times and long days
But it really just depends on the season
For now we'll say goodbye
We know it's not the last time
I've lost the best part of my day
But it's better where you're going anyway
This is the last thing I
I will remember
It's better where you're going anyway
"Sonny" - A New Found Glory
15 comments:
I'm aware there is little anyone can say that will take away the pain of losing someone so close to you. My condolences for you and your family at this time.
Also, please be aware that my door is always open to you. My home is your home. If you need company or a shoulder to cry on, I'm here for you.
Again, sorry for your loss.
-Bob
Truly sorry for your loss. I check your blog with some regularity anyway, but saw Bob's notice on Life Misled.
I can only imagine how you must feel, particularly on Christmas. My heart goes out to you and your's.
-Javid
I'm aware you don't know me personally. I'm JP, one of Bob's friends from back in his NorAm employment days.
I just wanted to say I'm sorry for your loss. I lost my brother two years back and it was one of the hardest things I've ever gone through. It never does go away but you get used to it-- little by little.
Very touching post.
I'll never say I fully understand how you feel but I have an idea... You know my past as well as I know yours...
Death is one of the hardest things to deal with in life though it truly does make us stronger...
I send you my deepest condolences and hope you know I'm always here for you... This makes me realize how much we've lost touch over the years and I hope we can become friends like we used to be...
*hugs*
Love ya Wolf
I can't really begin to describe how bad I feel about all this, so I know I can't even fathom how bad you feel, but I think what needs to be said is that you're a strong and wonderful woman, and we all have faith in your ability to get through this trying time, while at the same time not letting the memory of your brother die.
We all love you and we're all here for you.
On Pain
Kahlil Gibran
Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.
Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.
And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.
Much of your pain is self-chosen.
It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.
Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquillity:
For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen,
And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears.
Love you, Jamie.
I am truly sorry for your loss.
I am so moved by the news, though I don't know any of you guys. But it got to me so bad I thought it was happening to myself.
God bless you and your family and comfort you on his death.
Sorry for your loss : (
I came across this post from Life Misled and couldn't help but feel terrible. Your writing left me with goosebumps.
Your brother sounds like a standup guy and it's terrible that he's gone so young. I am truly sorry for your loss.
My heart goes out to you during your time of mourning.
Hey Jamie. I got your site from Life Misled. Your post is so touching, it raised every hair on my arm. The story was so very deep, I feel like I know you.
I just wanted to say I am sorry for your loss. I imagine it must be particularly difficult for you this time of year. Please accept my most sincere condolences. May next year be a little gentler on you.
Hi Jamie. I hope I'm not being too intrusive. I read Bob's story about you on Life Misled and I saw assorted comments, and I really wanted to come over and tell you how sorry I am for your loss.
I lost my sister a while back and it was very difficult. I'm glad you have some good friends behind you, it helps.
I was reading a poem that I thought related to the situation, and I wanted to share it with you:
“You can shed tears that she is gone,
or you can smile because she has lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that she'll come back,
or you can open your eyes and see all she's left.
Your heart can be empty because you can't see her,
or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember her only that she is gone,
or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind,
be empty and turn your back.
Or you can do what she'd want:
smile, open your eyes, love and go on.”
-David Harkins
I'm sure he's somewhere smiling down on you. Again, sorry for your loss.
Im so sorry for your loss... I was one of Munkys really close friends and I cant even begin to describe the feelings of pain and anguish that I am feeling. Your brother was one of the coolest people I have ever met in my entire life, and he will never be forgotten.
My deepest and sincerest condolences,
David Rivett
That was one of the most moving things I've ever read. You are an excellent, heartfelt writer. I'm sorry for your loss.
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