Bittersweet

Did your grade school do Leprechaun traps as a project around St. Patrick's Day? Mine did, and I even did them with my Pre-K kids last year.  That used to be the most significant thing about St. Patrick's Day in my mind. Not anymore.

Now, St. Patrick's Day has two very large, very important memories attached to it. Which makes today very bittersweet.

After the Chris Tomlin concert Nov. 2011

You see, on St. Patrick's Day 5 years ago, Jerome got down on his knee and asked my the Question. The one that changes your whole life. Obviously, I said yes. We were celebrating our 2nd anniversary by doing dinner at the Top of the Riverfront, a rotating restaurant downtown on top of the Millenium Hotel. Then we went to the Arch grounds for a walk and he asked me to be his wife. (For those of you doing the math, we've been together for 7 years.) He's my best friend, and an incredibly Godly man, and I am so blessed to have him in my life.

From J's aunt's Facebook page.

But, also on St. Patrick's Day, 4 years ago (a year into our engagement), Jerome's cousin committed suicide. We were blindsided. He and Jerome were like best friends. They had begun sharing an apartment together, and David was to be a groomsman in our wedding. But even though they lived together, we didn't see any of the typical warning signs. No depression, no giving away of prized possessions, nothing. He was headed out to a friend's diaper poker party with brownies and Jello shots on Sunday and dead the next morning. He was smart. He was funny. He was kind. And we miss him.

What a Week

David is dead. Every time I think of the finality of that, it makes me cry harder than I probably already am. I think of normal things like what I have at Jerome's apartment and then i think of David's room, now empty of everything. That really gets me, too. how would you like to live in an apartment where a kid killed himself? I don't know that I would, honestly. And I'm sure that apartment will stay empty for a while because legally the complex has to own up to it.

I think, as far as the stages of grief go, I'm kind of hovering in between depression and anger. To be honest, I'm pissed beyond belief that David did this. Why didn't he talk to someone? Anyone? What the hell was wrong with him that we didn't notice? Why would he choose a path so selfish and leave everyone behind in so much pain? And how the hell do you muster up the courage to pull a trigger on a gun or swallow an excessive amount of pills or slice your wirsts or jump off of a bridge or however else people kill themselves, knowing that it is the last thing you will ever do? And I'm mad that the funeral is during our Easter festival. hasn't he interrupted our lives enough? I need that escape and now I don't have it.

But maybe that is selfish on my part. I want to be there, of course, to pay respects and to be with my family. I need to be there. But I need to be able to do something just for me, too. Something not related to suicide and David and funerals.

Jerome is not doing too well with everything. He never talks about anything. He blew up yesterday at stuff his mom was doing and vented about it to me, which was god; at least he was blowing off some steam, however misdirected it was. He needed to oget soemthing out. It's this that angers me most of all. The mourning of everybody. I know people all mourn differently. I prefer to cry about it. But Jeroome keeps it bottled in. And I'm not pressuring him to talk about it right now because he needs some time to process and adjust, but I hope that he will talk to somebody. Anybody. Me, Sue, his mom, a girl at work, Christina. God would be great, too, but sometimes you need that physical contact: a hug, an arm around you. SOmeone saying, "I know it hurts, but it will be alright."

Things may never be normal again; we'll begin to go on living our lives and while we won't forget David, his memory won't be quite as vivid or painful as it is in these last few days. I just hope that eventually, somehow, with the help of God, it will be alright.

R.I.P. David

Jerome's cousin killed himself yesterday morning.

This was the cousin that Jerome shared an apartment with. Thankfully, Jerome was not the one who found him, but he now needs to try and get out of his lease; I don't blame him. He can't swing $600/month's rent and even if he could why would he want to stay? As far as grieving, he's being Jerome -- stoic and quiet. THe only time I saw him shed a tear yesterday was when his mother called.

The whole family is shocked. I'm shocked. J and I JUST saw him on Sunday afternoon and he seemed fine. Neither of us ever picked up on any depression symptoms. And I know about all the "signs of depression" or "Symptoms of suicidal thoughts." And you know what? I saw none of them. None of us saw any of it. Does that make us blind or does that make David a really good faker? Or did something just snap inside him? I guess these are questions that will never be answered. For now we're all grieving the loss of a bright 21 year old with such potential.

What went wrong??