My husband, infant daughter and I were driving home from the store on a Sunday afternoon around 3:30 pm. I was sitting in the back of the car with Baby G and took this picture and posted it to Instagram.
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I had thought it would be fun to to take a picture of her every day in June and so I "hashtagged" June 1 and in that moment a weird feeling came over me. I felt anxious, maybe I shouldn't do this... what if I'm "counting down" to something bad happening to G? But I convinced myself I was being irrational and paranoid like I had been for the past 5 months of G's life. (And well, let's be honest, the last 34 years of my life.) And so I posted it. We got caught in rubbernecking traffic on I-95 due to an accident going the opposite direction. My heart gave a little squeeze and I hoped that everyone in that accident was alright. Little did I know that within the hour my younger brother, Tim would be killed in a head-on collision and life as I know it would change.
You see, I've been consumed with "something bad happening" since I was 3 years old. My Dad died July 24, 1983 (Tim was 3-months old at the time) due to complications from Type 1 diabetes. So, I grew up knowing that life is precious, life is important, and yes, bad things can and do happen. I was a happy, well-adjusted little girl but there was this part of me I hid. The part of me that panicked that something bad would happen to my mom. ("What if while she's at the grocery store a crazy person with a gun comes in and shoots her?" What if while my mom is cutting vegetables she cuts herself and bleeds to death?") I often had trouble going to sleep and my mom would suggest I count backwards from 100 and if I mess up to start over, in hopes that it would bore me to sleep- ha! I made up a game that I had to get to the number of the age of my loved ones without messing up and if I did then certainly that meant they would die. "43...42...41...40...41... Oh no! I messed up and my mom is 39 so does that mean my mom is going to die at 40?" Yes, it was these crazy thoughts that plagued me throughout my life but their intensity ebbed and flowed at certain times of my life.
The birth of my daughter, my first child, ignited my old irrational anxieties. The end of my pregnancy was filled with constant worry- but that's a story for another post. After she was born I became obsessed that G would die, that she would just stop breathing. I held her while we both slept for the first 3 months of her life. By holding her constantly, I convinced myself that she couldn't possibly die if I was vigilantly watching and feeling her breathe. I obsessively checked her at every red traffic light to make sure she was still breathing in her car seat. It was exhausting and I knew irrational.
Slowly I practiced "letting go" and my worries were becoming more manageable. I started praying every night - something I very rarely did. I figured this was a more constructive way to harness my reeling thoughts. So every night I would think of family, friends and even strangers who I know needed good thoughts. Then I would imagine white light/energy emanating from G and me and it pulsating out into the universe. I know that sounds pretty "hippy dippy" but having not been raised in an organized religion, this felt right to me. I finally felt more in control and I believed that since I was sending positive energy out, that positivity would come back to me. Except it wasn't enough... It didn't save Tim.
So now what? I don't know what to believe, I can't make sense of why tragedy would strike me family twice. In those first days of shock I just kept saying, "I don't understand" and "What the fuuuck!?" I'm no where near peace and it's going to take years for me to find a reason (if there really is one). One surprising thing is that Tim's death has relieved some of my anxiety because it is so clear that I am not in control! It's fucking horrible and I was trying so hard to have "faith" that everything would "be alright" but I don't know anymore. I don't know anything except that we are powerless in the eyes of the universe. I know that I miss my brother every minute of every day and that it is possible to cry multiple times every single day. My heart aches so much and the only relief I get is loving my daughter with everything I have. That's just going to have to be enough because I don't have energy for much else.
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| The last picture taken of Tim, my mom and me with G. January 2014. |
