Today would have been Joe’s 30th birthday, and the lost opportunity in that realization is what is driving me back to writing today. This year is bringing a lot of changes to my life, changes my brother will not be figured into because he is no longer here on this earth.
My family is growing again: we will welcome baby #4 in February. I wanted to hear Joey laugh at the news, but instead there is silence. In the next few months, my husband, children and I will be moving into a new house in a new town (where I already have many wonderful friends) along with my parents, while the house we last lived in with Joey is going to be sold to someone else, someone who won’t understand that this is the house Joey Jello grew up in.
Our lives are moving on without him, and while it is good, it also hurts.
But as I was going through old papers and junk to de-clutter our current home, I came across a paper I used to keep posted on my desk at college. It’s something my grandmother wrote in an email not long before she died. Read the rest of this entry
I’ve often heard, and I suppose I believed that the first Christmas (or other major holiday you may celebrate) without someone you love is the hardest, but now I’m not sure that’s true.
Last Christmas, it had been 6 months since Joey’s death, and I missed him so much, but I feel like I was still just in shock so much that I couldn’t quite come to terms with the reality. I had started walking and set my goal to run a 5k in 2013, and these goals were so important for me to keep moving and taking breaths every day, but in some ways they were also a much needed distraction at the time.
This Christmas, however, I have felt the absence of Joey much worse. The permanence of death has set in, and the least of things has moved me to tears. Read the rest of this entry
I’m not sure I can even begin to wrap words around the emotions I am feeling today.
Yesterday was the day my mom and Joey’s friends finally had the opportunity to face George Martinez, Jr., the man responsible for the death of Joey Jello. Read the rest of this entry
Today, I went to the doctor because I had another cold I can’t seem to shake. It turns out I have allergies, which sucks, but maybe now that I know what I’m dealing with, I can start feeling better. The thing is: I hadn’t been to this doctor before, so I had to fill out the new patient paperwork.
When I got to the family history section, it asked for ages and physical health status and cause of death where applicable for each of my immediate family members: father, mother… brother.
In my mind, “deceased” has always been a word for grandparents and other older relatives. It’s not supposed to apply to your baby brother. I managed not to completely lose it in the patient waiting room, but the ripples of loss never seem to end.
Will I ever be able to answer the question, “So, do you have any siblings?” without crying? I’m not supposed to be an only child again. It feels like I am always just one question away from tears.
The loss of one of my favorite people on the planet just keeps on hitting.