unexpected turns of life

Sunday June 7, 2009.

I have not written in my blog in just over a year. I have craved this moment for months. In my travels, writing becomes a vital part of my journey. In my routine, writing takes a back seat. It makes me sad to see I have neglected the time my soul can open freely.

My life has changed drastically recently.

Three months ago in March 2009, I went on an awareness trip to Haiti. I visited orphanages, hospitals, disabilty residences, and group homes. I observed a culture completely different to my own. I admired the art, the music and the freedom of life there; but I craved to change the hunger, the lack of shelter and the strife that leads to nowhere.

I decided I wanted to become a part of the change in this world. Things are unbalanced and it is unfair.

I was meant to travel to Los Angeles, United States of America, immediately upon return from Haiti. I was going to be an Au Pair, live with a family and take care of three year old twins. I was about to experience a complete whirlwind of two incredibly different worlds. I was going to go from rags to riches.

I came arrived home from Haiti; I packed and repacked; and I was about to leave for the airport once again for the next destination. It was then my mother decided to tell me my best friend's mom had passed away. I was stunned. I couldn't leave her. How could I go? March 27th, Mrs. Van Hooren died.

I decided at 4 AM in the morning, I would be unsuccessful to get a hold of anyone from the agency to inform them. Somehow, with knots in my stomach and holding back the desire to vomit my insides, I got onto the plane and headed for my orientation in New York City.

As soon as I arrived to the orientation, I immediately informed the facilitators of what had happened. They were more than understanding and assured me my host family would understand and they would help organize my flights back home.

My host family did not understand. They were more concerned about when I was going to arrive and how I needed to arrive for the weekend in order to be trained to pick up the kids from school on Monday. When they were told this was not going to happen, the mother was not pleased. She had to contact her organizer and re-schedule her entire week..."the amount of people I had to inconvience because of this is rediculous...."

I was in shock. I had just come back from a country with true heartache and 'real' problems, only to find out my best friend just lost her mother. Then I had to sit through a conversation with a woman who completely lacked any compassion or understanding; a woman I was meant to live with for the next year of my life.

I realized my values were being tested. The most important thing to me in that moment was to be a friend. I knew I needed to be at home; however, I had made a commitment to a family to complete four days of orientation and move to live with them. My friend of ten years, or a family I have never met, and obviously do not meet eye to eye. If they had no compassion over a death, I doubt they'd be understanding about anything else.

The decision was simple. I booked my flight back home and I told the agency I would no longer be able to match with this family; they needed me earlier than I could be available to them. I haven't heard from the family since. I wasn't even offer condolences or a single thought. Not that it even mattered.

I returned home the day after I arrived to New York. I spent the week at the funeral home and the following week when I spoke to the agency, I told them I no longer wanted to take part in the program. They were understanding, yet told me to take some time to think that decision over before making it.

I was home. I had nothing to do. All I had was time. I was sad. I was inspired. I had the world in my hands and I could do anything I wanted with it. It was now time to do nothing. I did not know how to do nothing. I immediately spent my time coming up with ways to fill it; with things to do and plans to complete.

With this forever desire to have more time to do the things we want to do, I suddenly had no idea what to do with myself. I felt lost; yet I had the opportunity to find myself; to do whatever I desired.

I came up with lists to do the things I always wanted to do: learn to play the guitar; learn to speak Spanish; learn to speak Italian; spend time with my grandparents; cook for my family; spend time with my nephew; run; make videos I have been wanting to work on; organize my photos; dance; learn Reiki; write.

Some things I managed to do, other things I continued to put off. In time, I felt unmotivated to do all of the things I never seemed to have time for. I began to seek ways to fill my time. I looked for work. I decided I wanted to do work that helped people. I did not need to go to Haiti to help society balance out. I did not need to travel to see poverty. It was in my own backyard. I began to apply for jobs that worked with people and assisting people.

Then my aunt passed away. April 16th, 2009, we found my aunt dead in her bed.

I had dropped off some resumes at Community Living, a place to work with people of various disabilities. I had the afternoon free and I decided to go to my grandparents' house to visit. I entered the kitchen while my Nonna was on the phone. I smiled and waved. I walked over to grab a freshly baked cookie and suddenly I heard a screech, "molta!"

Someone had died. I looked at my Nonna and she broke down, "Zia Sara!"

She said Nonna was at her house and found her dead. She said I needed to call 911. I said okay, I told her I was going to go over there. I grabbed my things, put on my shoes and started dialing 911.

As I walked to my car, they answered the phone in a jumble of words, I had no idea what they asked, "Pardon!?"

"Fire, ambulance, police?"

Who do you need if someone is dead? "I'm not sure, I guess police? Maybe ambulance?"

I explained my grandfather found my aunt dead at her house.

"Are you sure she is dead?"

Well, I sure as hell don't know for sure. I would like to think she was alive. I remained calm, surprisingly. I explained again, "I'm not at the house. He phoned us at a different house to let us know. He went to visit her and found her. I don't know for sure, but that is what he said on the phone."

I was asked questions and I answered them calmly as I got into my Jeep and made my way over to her house. I knew her unit number but I could not remember her address. I knew her street but I did not know the number. She kept me on the phone, continuing to ask questions. As I raced down the streets, knowing they could not send someone to the house until they got the address. I whizzed around corners, hoping a police would decide to chase me.

Finally, she said she was going to call the house and ask my grandfather. I was told to call her back as soon as I got there.

"But wait, who do I call, what's the number?"

"911!"

Of course. Funny how the most obvious things become a blur!

I got off the phone and I thought to myself, I just might be arriving to my Aunt Sara's house to find her dead. I might see her dead. Still I remained calm. Drove fast, but it an undescribable stillness; guided by peace.

I arrived to the house. My entire body had been shaking. I saw my grandfather put down the phone, he was looking for a letter with the address on it. I picked up the phone to speak with the same familar voice. She told me to hang up and call back so the number would show up on their records. I obeyed and she said they were on their way and would be there immediately.

I hung up the phone, looked at my Nonno and gave him a hug. He told me to look down, and there they were. Pills layed out all over the floor. Her pill cabnet was opened and almost every bottle was opened. I looked at him, "Are you sure she's dead?"

He said, "Yes, do you want to check?"

And so I did. Him and I walked upstairs and into her room. She was layed on her side, one arm under her head and the other arm just over the edge of the bed. She was in her night gown, her heating pad on her, and her blanket half off. She was cold and she was white, but I checked for a pulse anyway. Maybe, just maybe she was still alive. I waited. I moved incase I put my fingers in the wrong spot, but there was not a pulse. She was dead. I knelt beside her bed, "Oh Aunt Sara!"

I prayed. I prayed for her soul, for her guidance to the light. I looked around. More pills on her nightstand. She garbage can filled with tissues. She had been crying. Sylvia Brown cds and The Secret layed beside the bed. I prayed some more. I don't know how long I knelt there, I don't think time really existed at this moment. I'm not really sure where Nonno stood. I don't know how he felt. I got up, I looked out the window and asked where the hell the police were. It felt like forever.

We walked back downstairs, aimlessly. We went back to the kitchen and I investigated the pills again. Nonno handed me a paper and asked what it was.

It said, No Funeral.

"Where did you get this?"

He responded, "Here, on the floor."

I sat down and stared at the piece of paper. I put my hand on the table, only to place it on other small note pages, identical to the one in my hand. Messages, written in my Aunt Sara's handwriting. No funeral. Pain too much to handle. House too much. Useless. Please forgive me. No funeral. I love you all. Chest cancer. I am sorry. Be happy for me.

I was numb. The situation was obvious. My aunt had decided to take her own life.

I got up and told my Nonno we should wait outside. It felt like it was a half hour before we finally heard sirens. The fire truck arrived first. "You come too," I asked.

"Yeah we all come. Where is she?"

"She's inside. Upstairs in the room."

The ambulance arrived. The police arrived. We went inside. The officer began to question Nonno and I. The phone rang.

I looked to see who it was and it was Aunt Sara's daughter, Phyllis. I didn't want to answer the phone. I didn't want to have to tell her her mother was dead. I stared at the name. I picked up the phone. She was hystarical on the other end, "Is my mom dead, Laura? Is it true?"

"Yes."

"What was it? Did she take too many pills, Laura? Is that what happened?"

"The police are here right now and they are investigating everything. Nothing is for sure yet."

Crying.

I'm not sure how the rest of the converstation went. I told her I would call her as soon as I knew anything. She said Wendie was on her way to pick her up and they were going to be coming right after. I took her cell phone number and told her I'd keep her posted. I think that was one of the hardest conversations I had to have. I was guided, because I never imagined I could be so calm.

They continued the investiagation and Nonno and I were told to wait outside. We answered more questions and as time went on, we developed more and more of our own questions.

The firemen and the paramedics left. Other investigators and a sargent arrived. I spoke to Lisa on the phone. I told her to go to Nonna's to be with her.

I spoke to my mom on the phone and she was in a complete fog of shock, "Mom, did you talk to Nonna?"

"Yeah, I know."

"Well, where are you?"

"I'm finishing my nails at Sara's Spa."

"Um, okay, well are you going to go to Nonna's?"

"Do you think I should?"

"Well, where were you going to go?"

"I have to meet Jamie at Lorenzo's appointment."

"Um, okay. Well maybe you should make sure Nonna is okay."

"I was thinking about coming by there."

"Okay, well they were investigating now. Nonno and I are just here...."

It was I was speaking to someone who had no idea what had happened. She was in a complete fog, in complete shock. I was stunned.

My dad showed up to the house. Nonno and I told him what happened. We stood outside and every so often people would come in and out, maybe ask a couple questions and head back in. They were waiting for the corner to arrive and declare the situation.

My mom arrived. By this time it was coming to a wrap. They asked us to come in. They told us the funeral home was going to come and bring the body to the hospital. They said to my parents if they wanted to see her they could, but the officer, Mr. Toutant, said, "I wouldn't reccommend you go. You don't want to have that memory of her."

They took his advice. I think my mom still regrets it, but if I could bring any piece to her mind, I wouldn't have suggested anyone to see what I'm sure plays in my Nonno's head, just as much as it plays in mine.

My mom left to meet Jamie. My dad, Nonno and I waited for the funeral home to come. They entered the house with a trolley and when they exited, they had my Aunt Sara under a black tarp. They stuck her in the back of their van, shut the doors and that was the last she was ever in her house.

The three of us went back into the house. I cleaned up the pills in the kitchen. The investigation was done and I didn't really think anyone else needed that visualization. The house had a smell that overpowered even the tabacco scent. They had moved the body and the gases had developed an aroma I will never forget.

We cleaned up a few things, walked around one last time and realized it was time to leave.

My Aunt Sara was dead. We were left with questions, guilt, and most obvious, sadness. Her notes said no funeral, not just once, but twice. The next few days we spent organizing her funeral. I don't think she really wanted us to fuss over everything; but when someone dies, the funeral isn't really for that person, it is for the people left to mourn. That's what we determined anyway. It took us through the next few days to focus on doing something- to go to the funeral home; to pick out a casket; to write an obituary; to choose songs for the mass; to pick readings and readers; to pass through pictures and share memories; to make a video and bulitin boards; to choose songs; and sort through angels to bring....

The funeral was against her wishes, but did it ever represent who my Aunt was. Angels and photos filled the room with her peace. The casket was closed. The body in there wasn't my Aunt Sara. My Aunt Sara had gone beyond this world, I'm sure many times before she died, but now she decided to remain there.

I don't really think Aunt Sara needed to ask for our forgiveness. I think we needed to ask for her's. Although I will never know the pain she was in that led her to make this decision, I understand what brought her to it. What aches me is the fact that my Aunt Sara not only died alone, but died feeling alone- so alone that she would take her own life. The only peace I have is knowing she is no longer in so much pain; and knowing that she is surrounded by all the angels and saints she would pray and talk to on a daily basis. She is among those she felt the most peace from.

I pray she now looks after the rest of us.

I pray my mom learns to live without her best friend.

I pray my Nonno is freed from the hauntings of this experience.

I pray that we all learn never to allow the people we love most to think we are not there for them.

I pray the guilt be filled with learnt lessons; if you have something to say or to do with or for someone, don't wait until you don't have the chance to be able to say or do it.

I pray this experience be at peace for everyone.