Life, Death, and Nipples

I debated with myself (those are the only debates I can win, and my record stands at around 33%) whether or not to bring up the bad from Saturday in this week's Weekend Update, but ultimately decided not to. I didn't want the good things that happened this weekend to be diluted by the bad, and I didn't want to minimize the bad by then talking about how incredible the JO session with my Dizcreet buddy was.

The wife comes from a large family; she's one of 9 siblings (5 girls, 4 boys), and she's the third youngest child, and second youngest girl. They were close growing up, though the two oldest, a boy and a girl, were more distant to the rest. I guess that makes sense, because they were the ones who were stuck with being in charge when their single mom was out cleaning houses to make enough money to feed 9 hungry mouths. I'm sure there was some resentment on their parts, having to grow up too soon, just as there was resentment on the younger siblings part for the inevitable abuses of power the two oldest wielded. (The father was abusive, and when her mom divorced him soon after the youngest was born, he was deported  from Germany back to Yugoslavia. The wife barely remembers him, but she hates him.)

Saturday afternoon she got another one of *those* calls; the brother she's closest to in age (and probably closest to growing up) was dead. I say "another" because this is the fourth such call about a sibling having died that's she's gotten in the past 20 years that she's lived in America.

The oldest sister was first, back in 1996, from suicide. She was being treated for depression, but it finally got the best of her. From what I understand, she was a troubled person from early childhood. While just a teen, she became pregnant by the priest of the church her family attended. (If you're thinking that sounds like Joan Jett's character from "Light of Day", congratulations: you and I officially think alike!)

The youngest sister died in 2005 or 2006. Her death was ruled accidental, when she took a prescription med that interacted badly with another prescription med. I really liked her; as the youngest, she was the one most full of life and pep when I lived among them. She used to wear a baggy sleep shirt with big arm holes, and I always furtively tried to get a glimpse of her boobs when I could get away with it. I saw plenty of flesh, but never the nipple. (And to be clear, she was over 18 by the time I met her.)

The oldest brother died last year after a lengthy battle with leukemia. I only met him once, and don't know a lot about him, but I admire the fight he had in him. He and his wife had a "surprise" baby shortly after he was diagnosed, and he fought to live as long as he could to see his boy grow up. He made it into his son's 9th year. Though it was expected, his death was no easier for the wife. The one thing she could at least take from it was that he was no longer in the excruciating pain. I'm glad that she went to Germany in 2008 for Christmas, and got to spend some more time with him.

I never saw his nipple either, by the way.

Saturday it was the fourth youngest, one year older than the wife. He'd broken up with his girlfriend a couple times, and the wife started becoming concerned about some of his Facebook posts. She'd talked with him last week, and implored him to take care of himself and to talk with someone, but to not do anything stupid. She told another sister and brother to keep an eye on him, that she was worried.

In truth, all of them were worried about him, but when someone gets it in their head to hurt themselves, there's only so much that can be done. You do what you can, but short of having someone committed, you really can't watch them 24/7, especially when you have your own problems to contend with.

Early Saturday he went by the girlfriends apartment (she'd kicked him out a few weeks ago) and begged her to marry him. She said no, so he left. The girl called the police later that day saying she couldn't get in touch with him and was worried about him. They found him in his car on the side of an autobahn. He had a pain pill prescription from a recent surgery, and he'd taken them all at once.

The wife blames the girlfriend, and herself, and her siblings, and they probably blame themselves as well. It's natural to think of what more one could have done to prevent something like this. I even wonder if I should have reached out to him, though we haven't been close since I lived in Germany.

But the truth is, there's really only one person to blame. I don't mean that to speak ill of the dead, but he's the one who made the decision, and the only one who could have made the decision to live.

The wife cried quite a bit Saturday, and decided it was a good time to get drunk. I agreed whole-heartedly, though I kept my own drinking under enough control to take care of her. She cried, she drank, she threw up, and cried some more. Sunday morning she was hung-over, but felt better as the day wore on. She cried, or came close to it, a few more times, but mostly she's started the process of getting it behind her. It'll take time, but she has, unfortunately, had some experience with this.

As bad as I feel for the wife, I feel worse for her mother who has now outlived four of her children. I don't have children, but I've always heard that's the worst thing for a parent, especially a mother.