jedibuttercup (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
jedibuttercup) wrote2008-02-17 11:14 pm
jedibuttercup) wrote2008-02-17 11:14 pm
Entry tags:
the tolling of the bell
Mom called. They're back from the coast. D--'s parents will be going back out tomorrow; still haven't found him. The Coast Guard have given up the search; they say it could be next morning, or three days from now, or two weeks, or never before he washes up.
His wife was so upset yesterday, so quiet in the background-- no one filled her in on all the details. When they were walking the beaches this morning, R-- thought he might still be alive. Mom had to tell her otherwise; she ended up spending most of the day with R-- in the E.R. after that. They'd just found out Friday that the Korean embassy lost the paperwork for her visa, and they would have to reapply. She'd hoped she might be pregnant; but when she was in the hospital today, she found out she wasn't. She's falling apart. Mom said R-- said no one had ever wanted to take care of her in her whole life before she met D--, and now he's gone-- and she might not even get to stay here.
D-- had so much vitality and determination; he had dyslexia and bad vision as a small child that went undiagnosed too long, and as a result the school system tried to pigeonhole him as "special needs". He had to fight tooth and nail to get back into the regular system for high school, and he was so proud of that regular diploma. Mom helped tutor him, and I helped on occasion; when he wanted to redo his resume just a week ago, I was the one he called and asked to help. With the brotherly hug, and the laughter, and the smile, and offering to pay me for my time-- of course I didn't take his money. He'd done the usual couple of years odd jobs after high school, then decided he needed to do something better for himself, and joined up; made Sergeant; fell in love overseas and came back full of plans for his life. He wanted to be a police officer, keep protecting people. But now his sister's babies are going to grow up remembering their Uncle D-- as just a smiling photo on a shelf.
Mom said, these last couple of days with their family-- she's never seen grief so severe in her whole life. And considering the rocky times our family has been through, especialy with Mom's parent's deaths, that's saying something. I wish there was something more I could do, besides pray, but--
My brother cried on the phone today when Mom called to talk to him about it. D-- and his sister were always like extra siblings to us; our parents were their "other Mom and Dad", and vice versa, though we've seen each other less often in the last few years. I can't even imagine what it would be like if I lost my brother; losing D-- is bad enough, even at this remove.
It's starting to sink in, more than yesterday. Like I can't breathe. Like I want to dig into my poetry shelf and plaster resonant quotes everywhere instead of talking about it anymore.
This is going to be a very bad week.
~
His wife was so upset yesterday, so quiet in the background-- no one filled her in on all the details. When they were walking the beaches this morning, R-- thought he might still be alive. Mom had to tell her otherwise; she ended up spending most of the day with R-- in the E.R. after that. They'd just found out Friday that the Korean embassy lost the paperwork for her visa, and they would have to reapply. She'd hoped she might be pregnant; but when she was in the hospital today, she found out she wasn't. She's falling apart. Mom said R-- said no one had ever wanted to take care of her in her whole life before she met D--, and now he's gone-- and she might not even get to stay here.
D-- had so much vitality and determination; he had dyslexia and bad vision as a small child that went undiagnosed too long, and as a result the school system tried to pigeonhole him as "special needs". He had to fight tooth and nail to get back into the regular system for high school, and he was so proud of that regular diploma. Mom helped tutor him, and I helped on occasion; when he wanted to redo his resume just a week ago, I was the one he called and asked to help. With the brotherly hug, and the laughter, and the smile, and offering to pay me for my time-- of course I didn't take his money. He'd done the usual couple of years odd jobs after high school, then decided he needed to do something better for himself, and joined up; made Sergeant; fell in love overseas and came back full of plans for his life. He wanted to be a police officer, keep protecting people. But now his sister's babies are going to grow up remembering their Uncle D-- as just a smiling photo on a shelf.
Mom said, these last couple of days with their family-- she's never seen grief so severe in her whole life. And considering the rocky times our family has been through, especialy with Mom's parent's deaths, that's saying something. I wish there was something more I could do, besides pray, but--
My brother cried on the phone today when Mom called to talk to him about it. D-- and his sister were always like extra siblings to us; our parents were their "other Mom and Dad", and vice versa, though we've seen each other less often in the last few years. I can't even imagine what it would be like if I lost my brother; losing D-- is bad enough, even at this remove.
It's starting to sink in, more than yesterday. Like I can't breathe. Like I want to dig into my poetry shelf and plaster resonant quotes everywhere instead of talking about it anymore.
This is going to be a very bad week.
~
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