The reality of losing a sibling; from the big sister. Pt 2

The reality of losing a sibling; from the big sister.

Part Two

Read Part One here

The days after Jeremy died were a blur. I'm going to share what I remember.

April 27, 2012

Upon entering the house, after telling my mom the news, we escorted her to the kitchen table. She missed the chair while trying to sit and the entire table almost toppled over. (Prior to her arrival, we had already discussed the possibility of having to call an ambulance.) My mother had a history of hyperventilating and anxiety. For a brief moment, I thought I'd watch her be carted away.  I don't remember what time the police came to notify us, but he died at 8:32am. The screaming phone call was sometime around 10am. My mom didn't get home until around 11am. The Chaplin arrived before the officer. Everything was backwards. I had taken my mom's cell, the house phone, and my phone. In between checking on my mother and calling family, I was holding my own grief in.




I remember at one point the Chaplin was talking to my mother in the basement, and she was obviously in shock as she was somewhat composed and talking about funeral plans with the Chaplin. She mentioned cremation, and that's when I lost my composure. It was brief and I strongly disagreed with the idea. It didn't last long, I had calls to make.

Everything else was a blur. Time passed slowly but was unrecognizable. Our fridge, freezer, and table filled, there were toiletries arriving in bulk, and the neighbors bringing folding chairs as every seat was filled. I cannot speak highly enough of our friends and community.

This day was the first time in my life that I understood the saying "weak in the knees"



April 28th, 2010
His wreck was on the cover of the paper. It was a joint article about the two accidents. The article was more focused on the fuel spill his accident caused, more than 100 gallons, and the gruesome details of the wreck.

Here is an excerpt

In the first accident, authorities say Jeremy Stevison, 19, of Ross Twp. crashed his car around 8:30 a.m., seconds after passing a semi along Ohio 128.
Stevison was headed south in his 2001 Mercury Sable when he struck a northbound semi driven by Duane Weaver, 60, of Carlisle, according to the Butler County Sheriff’s Office.
Stevison, who was entering a curve just south of the Town and Country Mobile Home Park near the 2200 block of Hamilton-Cleves Road at the time of the accident, was pronounced dead at the scene by the Butler County Coroner’s Office.
The wreck ruptured the semi’s fuel tank, causing more than 100 gallons of diesel fuel to spill onto and around the roadway. The Butler County Emergency Management Agency and the Ohio Environmental Protection Agency were called to assist in the cleanup effort, which closed the road for most of the day.
The impact ripped off the driver’s side of the car and pushed the semi into a nearby guardrail that protects traffic from a steep slope into the Great Miami River.
Weaver was taken to Mercy Hospital Fairfield suffering from minor injuries to his arm and shoulder, according to St. Clair Twp. Fire Chief Terry White.

That was it. Those few paragraphs were all they saw important.

I was supposed to go to a mandatory orientation for nursing school. Once again, my support system pulled through. My aunt had a friend at the school and I was exempted from orientation due to the circumstance. Instead of orientation, I was at the funeral home choosing a casket with my family. I remember the incredible cost. Almost $10,000. No flowers, we had already received dozens at home. Just the service, casket, vault, obituary, guest book, pamphlets, and embalming. While picking out the casket, my father was trying to be fiscally responsible. I don't say that in a harsh way, he was doing the best he could, but the caskets were expensive. We had all picked one out, but it was more than we wanted to spend. Then my mom started crying. "This is the last thing we will ever buy him. No more Christmases, no more birthdays." So, we got the one we really wanted. We spring for the more expensive vault with the promise that it would preserve the body better. Why that mattered? I don't know. But, it mattered. Why would we care if his body was preserved? We would never see it again after the funeral. But, it mattered. We were also informed that he had a "hole", for lack of better words and lack of memory of the actual language used, in the left side of his head. We had already decided on an open casket, so the funeral director said they would have to put the body so the left side faced the hinges and fluff the pillow on that side so that the "hole" would not show. Lastly, We chose the poem for the pamphlet. It was perfect.

Miss me, but let me go
When I come to the end of the road
And the sun has set for me,
I want no tears in a gloom-filled room,
Why cry for a soul set free?
Miss me a little – But not for long
And not with your head bowed low,
Remember the love that we once shared,
Miss me – But let me go.
For this is a journey we all must take,
And each must go alone,
It’s all a part of the Master’s plan
A step on the road to home.
When you are lonely and sick of heart
Go to your friends that we know,
And bury your sorrows in doing good works,
Miss me – But let me go.

Then we went to the cemetery and chose his plot. Plot # 12. We chose one with empty plots on either side, for my parents.

April 29, 2010
The obituary appeared in the paper. It was real. The visitation was set for April 30 and the funeral May 1, just one month shy of his 20th birthday.

April 30, 2010
The day of the visitation. People were still coming in and out. My boyfriend, Joe, had stayed at my house every night. He was up all night while I cried, he got up in the morning and went to work, and then came straight to my house after. My friend, Kelly, did the same thing. The visitation was supposed to be 5:00-8:30. Joe helped me button my shirt because my hands were too shaky. I remember getting dressed very carefully. I did my hair, sported big dark shades instead of make-up, and slowly buttoned and zipped my clothes. I was strangely void. We got into the car, and drove to the church. We entered the front door and greeted my extended family in the lobby area. Just the four of us entered the room where his body was waiting for us. My mom and dad first, and then Jeffrey and I in linked arms. There he was, lying there. His skin was flawless. But his hands were not crossed as they should have been. They had been broken too badly. His fingers were curled as if they had been pried from the steering wheel. I was angry, They were so worried about getting that oil cleaned up that they couldn't even get his body to the morgue while it was still warm. But as it turned out, his hands were perfectly curled to hold a mountain dew can in one hand, and a mini football helmet in the other. I was told later that they could hear our cries from the lobby. He looked perfect, but it just wasn't right. His skin was too smooth, his clothes laid too perfect. The "hole" wasn't at all visible, but you could tell that the pillow was strategically placed. I think that this was because I knew it would be, not because it was really noticeable. Then our family came in. I watched my family break down. I tried to hug them and be there for them. Until I saw my dad's father crying, my uncle Bob had to come over and hold me up. One of the most painful experiences that I had, was watching the people I loved grieving. The visitation went over the scheduled time. It was like that awkward-head-bob-hug, the one where you don't know which way they are going to put their head, 1000 times. I was told that people had been standing in line for 2-3 hours. I cried throughout the entire visitation. A close friend's mother tried to get me to stop with a little tough love (with a lot of  the love part). She told me that he was at peace and I could get through the next few hours. It worked for about 15 minutes. The local pizza joint (Ross Pizza) delivered complimentary pizza for the family.

Bernice, our neighbor, and Jeremy

I want to take a moment here to talk about jealousy. My father had two sons and a daughter. He brought his sons everywhere. His daughter, not so much. My brothers worked with him in the summer and he was very involved in their sporting events. During the visitation, several people walked right past me in the line. They didn't know who I was and would skip right over me. Jeffrey redirected them and introduced me. "I didn't know you had a sister" they would say. It made me angry. I felt like I was forced to grieve in silence, or that my pain wasn't being recognized. Now, once again, I was not looking for sympathy. Which is what made things so very confusing. I didn't want people to tell me how sorry they were, but I felt short changed if they didn't. One gentleman came to me and said "Please give Carly my condolences" and handed me a card. The card had Carly's name on it. The man said nothing else. When Carly opened the card later, it said something to the effect of "now is the time to buy life insurance". He was a life insurance salesman. I was furious, which I think anyone could relate. He gave condolences to my friend (Who had only met Jeremy a handful of times) through me.

 I just to wanted have acknowledgement 

that I was allowed to grieve.

Everything seemed like a personal attack during that time. 

People who barely knew Jeremy, were saying they were best friends. People were calling him their brother left and right. I WAS HIS SISTER, HE WAS MY BROTHER. One girl even claimed that she was texting him when he wrecked (which was untrue. His cellphone remained in working order and, searching for answers, I later discovered he was not on his phone) . I was called by the high school principal to talk to Jeremy's friends because a learning disabled student had called Jeremy stupid for going over the yellow line. The boy was now to scared to attend school because they were threatening him. People came out of the woodwork. Some of them, I wish they would crawl back in. Most of this anger came later. I was not very angry about any of it for months, possibly even a year or so. We will not all go through the same stages at the same time. (to review the stages of grieving, click here)

How did I handle it?

If I said it once, I said it 100 times. No ones grief is greater or less than someone else's. You don't know what kind of relationship that person had with your loved one. Maybe their grief stems from wishing they had gotten to know him better, or maybe they had a much closer relationship than anyone thought, or maybe watching you grieve is painful for them. When I went through my anger stage, I was angry when people called him "a brother" or "like a brother". He was a brother to me for 19 years. It infuriated me. When I heard "I'm so sorry" for the hundredth time, I smiled. For the hundredth time. Even after losing a brother myself, I still don't know what to say in periods of loss. You have to try to understand, even in your time of true grief, that they are doing their best. No one would dare try to downplay your grieving or loss. Even though it may seem that way at times. When a young person someone dies, it is not enough that we grieve. We must also endure the drama and ignorant statements of others. I'm not going to go into details now, but my son's fraternal grandfather told people around our small town this ---

God took Jeremy away from my family because I took Zachary away from their family

People are going to say hurtful things. Not everyone will be grieving. And not everyone will grieve forever. People are going to approach you differently for the next few months. It was always awkward to see someone for the first time after the funeral. You may grieve longer than most of the people you know. Granted, they will still miss him. The wound will just not be a raw for them as it is for you. And If you begin to feel normal again, or smile again, you may even feel guilty. Like you should grieve forever. Try not to dwell on that feeling too much. It's wasteful.

No one is going to remember your loved one the way you do. So you should remember them in the best light possible.

Jeremy's Facebook status April 26, 2010

"give me all you got never stop always finish and at the end of it all I'll be here"

In the next part of this series, I'm going to talk about the first christmas and Christmases after.

 National Suicide Hotlines USA

United States of America Toll-Free / 24 hours a day / 7 days a week

1-800-SUICIDE		1-800-273-TALK
1-800-784-2433		1-800-273-8255

1-800-799-4TTY (4889)
Deaf Hotline

Please feel free to e-mail any additional numbers to add to this post.

Jamie.tene@gmail.com

If you want to talk about your own personal loss, I'll be more than willing to listen.

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WARNING

The following are some photos of Jeremy's accident. These have never been viewed by the public. The photos could not be shown in their entirety due to the graphic nature of some of them.

The driver did everything he could to avoid the accident

Jeremy's drivers side door