life

January 9th

Some people claim that time heals all wounds, but I find this statement completely false. First of all, who are these people and what authority do they have to make such a sweeping claim? Second of all, it’s not time that heals wounds, but rather, actively working on healing yourself.

Grade 7, January 9th has forever been etched in my mind. It changed me as a person. Toronto had a massive snowstorm, and my friend, who I have cherished memories of, decided to cut the phone cords in his home and end his life. His funeral was the first one I ever attended, and until recently, I would wonder if there was anything more I could have done to help him. But the truth is, to embrace life also means to accept death. Even though he was very young, he made a choice. A choice that affected the lives of those who loved him forever.

Soon after his death, there were rumors that he was gay and he was harassed for it. I don’t know if there was any truth to the rumors, and frankly, it doesn’t matter. He was a kind person, and the world lost some of its magic. There was a hill that we used to play on often, and I still pass that hill and smile. He made my childhood a little brighter, and I’m grateful for that.

As I sit here on January 9th, more than 27 years later, Toronto is having another snowstorm, and I’m reminded of that day in grade 9. Hearing the news of his parents running to a neighbor to ask them to call an ambulance. The memories come back, and I’m finally making the decision to work through my unresolved feelings. His death changed me as a person. I’m known to be a very outspoken person, but if you pay attention to what I say, I will never deliberately say something to hurt anyone. My friend’s death taught me that the saying ‘sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me’ is nothing but nonsense. Words matter. They have weight. They can push someone over the edge.

His death impacted me so much that for the last 3 years, I have been doing my job and a colleague’s job to ‘cover for them’. Even though it has been at my own expense. My colleague lost both of her parents at the same time and spiraled down. I felt that it was my duty to ‘help her’ while she got back to being herself. But she hasn’t been herself since. At what point do I recognize that her experience has changed her as a person forever? And at what point do I say, ‘it’s not my duty to heal her and take a step back for my own mental health’. Last year, I made the decision to talk to her manager and my own manager, because it was becoming too much for me. It wasn’t only the work that was dragging me down, it was her hostility and her rudeness. Sometimes she sounded drunk on the phone, other times she sounded high. I would repeatedly say ‘go get help!’, and ‘focus on your job! this is your livelihood, you have kids!’ But it felt like everything I said fell on deaf ears.

My own trauma of my friend’s passing makes it hard for me to give up on my colleague. I can’t walk away. I know who she was before her life was turned upside down. And while I know it’s not my ‘duty’, I can’t leave her behind. My peers will say ‘it’s not your job to fix this’, and I know it’s not. But I also understand her worth, even if she can’t see it right now. I’m starting to understand that it’s her job to fight for the life that she wants. She is an adult, and I can’t make her get help that she doesn’t want. Her blessing through this experience is to understand that yesterday is gone, hold on to the memories and lessons, and find a way forward in her own power.

And my lesson is to understand that it’s my responsibility to focus on the happy and wonderful things happening in my life. To be easier on myself and understand that how other people live their lives is not my responsibility. I understand that my friend chose to end his life, I did not choose that for him, nor can I alter the past. But just because I couldn’t save him in the past, doesn’t mean it’s my responsibility to save someone in my present. They have to save themselves. They have to fight for themselves. I have been urging her to get professional help for 3 years. I have done my part; the actions are now up to her. She has to make the decision to fight for herself, and I have to find peace with that. This is something that I’m struggling with, but I’m trying.

— xoxo Sandy

life

Dear Avee,

I hope you are enjoying your time in heaven.  I hope you are proud of us and smiling at everything we have accomplished. We didn’t know the last time we saw each other would be the final goodbye. I am grateful for the joy you brought to my life and I want to thank you for the happy memories.

It took me a long time to accept that your death didn’t mean I had to stop living, But I still think about you every day. Even though we would have been an ocean apart, I know we would have stayed in touch like we do with your sister. I miss you, and I’m heartbroken that you’re not here. I’m sad that I don’t get visit you when I visit England.  I still remember you as a playful kid, running around the kitchen with a bottle in your mouth, ignoring your mom. I can still hear her calling your name like it was yesterday. You were so free-spirited. A cheeky little boy.  I wonder what you would have grown up to be. What kind of music would you have enjoyed, what kind of food would you have loved. Would you have followed your dad’s footsteps in the shoe business? Would you have learned to fly like your sister? The possibilities would have been limitless.

I still remember the day we learned that you were gone. It was only a few months after we moved to Canada. I went to school and cried all day. I was too young to understand how someone could hurt a child, but that day I realized that the world is not a safe place. I realized that not everyone is good, and that I had to be careful. Maybe that’s why I always expect the worst from people, to protect myself.

But to move on, I need to stop dwelling on the day you died and how you died. I need to focus on the happy times and thank you for being part of my story. The time was brief, but I need to appreciate the quality of our time together, not the quantity. I need to let go of the pain. I need to let go of the sorrow. I need to open my heart again and be vulnerable. Its tiring being so guarded, I need to start connecting with others.

I love you, and you will always be in my heart, brother. Give my love to your mom!

I pray that you are at peace.

Love you Always,

Sandy