Does it really matter when someone dies? Does it matter how they would feel if it had been you? Did that person want to die? Do you have a choice when they say that you see the light? Sometimes I feel that maybe that person is just tired of living and just gives up. Nevertheless, if you do not have a choice and you die, do you really die because of how you died? Maybe when you died your angry you have unfinished business are they at peace?
My stepfather died of an unexpected heart attack on Memorial Day weekend of 2007. He was a diabetic for two years he had been taking medication. My brother died in a tragic car accident the following week, at the Rosary for my stepfather, I could hear everyone saying what happened he looked healthy? For his age, the two weeks before, he had been complain of chest pain, as any typical stubborn Mexican man he did not want to go to the Doctor, he thought over the counter aspirin would help. He drank beer, ate eggs with everything, and did not take his medications as directed by his doctor. He loved fried foods especially chicken.
My mother called me Sunday afternoon to tell me she was taking my step father to the emergency room whether he liked it or not. They took him straight up to the MICU at the hospital where they did a cath lab. We were allowed to see him in his room he was being his usual self-making jokes. I thought to myself he going to be okay. My mother told me she was going to stay with him tonight for me to go home so that I could pick up my children from the sitter. Later when we were in bed the phone rang, it was my mother telling me that he did not make it. I could not believe what she was saying. There was no way that this was happening. This man that I call my step-father raised me since I was eight he was more than a stepfather, he was a father, he came into my life not knowing that he would be having to deal with my teenage years. He was there for everything like any real father would he would fix my car, my quince era, wedding, and births for all three of my children.
I felt I that the whole time during the services that it was not real this was not happening. By the time we were home, I was already feeling numb.I blocked it out of my mind that it ever happened that he was at work as usual. People that I knew would come up to me to tell me they were sorry for what had happened to my stepfather. I did not want to talk about it to anyone I would walk away I did not even want to see or talk to my mother I blamed her for not taking care of him they he took care of her when she was sick. I would avoid her phone calls. I would do my everyday thing of working, cleaning taking care of my kids. Friends and family would come over to check on me but I told my husband to tell them I was busy.
I did not know if my medicine was making me not feel reality of what was really going on. I spoke to my older brother on Thursday evening giving him details about the funereal where he was buried, My biological father had died in 1998, so I explained to my brother that my stepfather and dad were buried a couple of feet apart. The following Friday night at one in the morning, I get a phone call from his daughter telling me that someone has been calling her from his cell phone could I please call him to see what was going on.
A woman answered the phone to tell me that my brother was in an automobile accident and was on his way to the hospital in an ambulance. On the way to the hospital, I was thinking who she was. When I finally got to the hospital one of the Social Services Representatives asked me to follow her we went in to this small waiting room she asked me if I was ok. I told her yes what is going on. The doctor will come in and explain everything just have a seat. Two doctors came in to speak to me, one of them squat in front of me with his unshaved face and tired eyes.
As he was talking to me the words that he was saying, I could not understand I was expecting him to tell me that my brother was fine that they would have to keep him overnight for observation. I could not understand that he was saying my brother died on way to the hospital the paramedics tried CPR but could not revive him.
I told him he had the wrong person this could not be happening I just spoke to him the day before we had made plans to get together at his house that weekend. They took me to the back to identify his body and make sure it was him, he was a mess he had blood all over him, cuts, he was swollen, it did not look like him. However, it was I was there alone trying to take all this in.
To deal with two deaths in one week was hard for me to deal with I felt the more I took my depression medicine the more it did not really help. I felt angry, sad, and hurt. How could they die? Why choose death?