Category: Death

Jeff

Sarah 16 Comments

I got the idea to call my dead sister’s cell phone from the movie P.S. I Love You. In the film, a woman calls her dead husband’s cell phone over and over.

It was the saddest thing I’d ever seen.

When my sister Melissa died, I called her constantly.

I sobbed when she didn’t answer.

I sobbed listening to her voicemail and I obsessed.

I pulled my family into it.

It was a little funny.

During one of my routine calls to Melissa, something weird happened.

Something that barged in on my pity party.

Something that introduced me to Jeff.

I hung up on him.

My beloved calling routine was taken from me by Jeff, aided by the dicks over at Verizon.

As pack leader, it was my job to ensure my younger brother and sister knew how to react.

Fueled by “coping-with-depression-via-alcohol,” I made another call.

I gauged his reaction to a drunk dial.

He seemed game.

Jeff and I connected immediately.

But I had the right number. And it was Jeff’s.

We had a beautiful summer together.

I couldn’t wait to get him on the line for a rip-roaring chat.

Classic Jeff.

I don’t remember much of our conversations.

What I do remember is the excitement when Jeff answered the phone.

If my life was a movie, Jeff getting Melissa’s phone number would have been one of those silver-lining things you hear about when people die. Like Jeff and I were supposed to meet. And Melissa dying was the only way that could happen.

A few months into my new routine with Jeff, I got a text from an unknown number.

My life isn’t exactly like a sad movie.

Author’s Note: This story was originally posted in 2017. I’m including this story in my book (Death, Depression, and Diarrhea). I’m sharing it with you so you can get a sneak peek of the redrawn art!

Why “If there’s anything I can do, let me know” is the most unhelpful phrase ever

Sarah 6 Comments

 

When my sister Melissa died, people tried to be helpful. But humans suck at consoling each other. 

Ok.

Our Father, who art in heaven, couldn’t you have let Melissa live just a little longer?

Sure, but what if the reason is that we’re in Final Destination and you’re next? 

It’s difficult to offer meaningful condolences. Unfortunately, I’ve probably also been a poopyhead. 

I didn’t nail it.  

Much like She’s-With-God Girl or Everything-Happens-For-A-Reason Guy, I probably went about my day like an OG.

Meanwhile, this was likely still happening:

There are a lot of truly terrible condolence phrases.

The phrase I heard most after Melissa died was “If there’s anything I can do, let me know.” The words often came through social media, making them extra unhelpful. 

I accidentally started hating the person saying the words instead of hating the words.

There’s no good response. 

People also said the words to me in real life.

Sometimes it felt like people asked about Melissa’s death to confirm gossip, then steamrolled right over how I felt about it. The “let me know” part ended the conversation—the same conversation the person had just initiated. Didn’t the person know they were doing something when they acknowledged my sister?

The words made me feel foolish. I felt like a fish who’d been hooked. I took the bait. I opened up about Melissa. Then the fisherman was like: “Nevermind—catch and release!” This is what I heard: 

On some level, it felt like the person might have known I would never ask for anything. This made their words feel totally meaningless. It felt like the person said the words so they could feel good about themselves without actually having to do anything.

The words also felt like this:

I started thinking of weird responses to keep myself entertained.

Lots and lots of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

I also like Pumpkin Spice Lattes (not from Olive Garden).

I want to be Scrooge McDuck.

Asking for what you need is challenging in any emotional state. It can feel impossible in grief.

Directness would be ideal and I’m sure Sharon would have obliged. But I wasn’t going to ask for what I needed. Despite my elaborate daydreams, I didn’t know what that was.

So if this phrase is garbage, what does help?

A few days after Melissa died, my family went out to eat at our favorite Mexican restaurant. Life felt fake and fractured. I ate a lot of cheese. During the meal, a waitress approached our table.

The waitress told my family that a couple at a nearby table paid for our meal. The couple left the restaurant before we could thank them.

Eleven years later, I remember exactly how their gesture made me feel. I realized other people knew about the feelings of pain. Other people cared enough to try and make it better. Their kindness connected me back to the world. It shocked me out of the feelings of anger and loneliness that I was harboring in my head.

On the one-year anniversary of Melissa’s death, my best friends sent me a package. It contained obscene amounts of my favorite treats. 

There were like 30 Kinder-cake bars inside the package. And enough Snickers and Coca-Colas to give me diabetes. My friends’ thoughtfulness was like receiving a giant hug. I think I laugh-cried.  

Years after Melissa died, I saw a friend from high school. I had not seen him or spoken to him since her death. About eight minutes into our conversation, he said something that sticks with me.

We talked about Melissa only briefly. But in those simple words, he acknowledged an event that had been a really big deal to me. It took bravery for him to bring up a subject that could be uncomfortable, and to do so directly.

These actions of strangers and friends shared common themes. They displayed empathy, showed interest, and acknowledged feelings. They put effort into their words and actions. These people took charge without putting any onus on me.

Their actions also educated me. Because of their compassion, I learned how to suck a little less at condolences.

The Snibbles Snowball: why I lied about my dead sister’s cat

Sarah 2 Comments

I lied to a lot of hairdressers after my sister died. 

I never meant to lie. Melissa’s death was sudden and awkwardly made me the oldest child. In the weeks and months (and even years) after she died, I would panic during small talk.

The words came out before I could stop them. My sister used to live in Kalispell.

The words hung in the air.

Maybe not.

I don’t know the polite answer. Imagine if I told the truth.

Imagine if I tried to over-explain.

Alienating.

A few years later, I moved to Washington, D.C. for a job. Meeting new people gave me lots of opportunities to improve my answers.

I still panicked.

Sometimes people asked questions about my siblings, which meant discussing Melissa. How did I deal? By playing dodgeball.

I wasn’t good at dodgeball.

Before she died, Melissa adopted a cat named Snibbles. Melissa made a Facebook page for Snibbles, like all responsible pet owners.  

Rolland was my first new friend in D.C. and he noticed I was friends with Snibbles on Facebook.

My parents adopted Snibbles when Melissa died.

Rolland didn’t know I had a sister who died. He didn’t know Snibbles was Melissa’s cat and nobody had access to her Facebook page.

Probably because I lied about it.

I ignored the situation until my birthday. My birthday was two weeks after I moved to D.C.

Rolland was my first new friend.

Should I risk alienating him?

Admitting a lie about my dead sister’s cat seemed like I might return to zero friends.

I tried guessing the password. It couldn’t be that hard.

It was that hard.

Besides being my first new friend, Rolland was also my colleague. He sat next to me in the office every day. It felt really important to know the password because Snibbles was making me look like a dick.

I tried playing dodgeball.

To my delight, Rolland played along. 

It felt nice to blame Snibbles.

At some point in our friendship, Rolland learned about my sister and the plane crash that killed her. I did not tell him Snibbles was her cat.

I told Rolland the truth about Snibbles four years later over text message when we no longer lived in the same place or worked together.

It’s probably too late to come clean to the hairdresser.

Is an open casket better than a closed one? Not in our case. LOL.

Sarah 19 Comments

 

Adventures With Vrah content warning

If you have been living under a stupid rock, “LOL” stands for “laugh out loud.” People have been LOLing since digital messaging began. Grandmas lol. Millennials LOL. Hipsters LOL ironically.

Is an open casket better than a closed one? Not in our case. LOL.

Everyone lols in their own way.

What does lol have to do with an open casket? Nothing.

But I wanted to draw a comic about death, dreams, and a charred body. I thought LOL would make everyone more comfortable. LOL.

Few things are more uncomfortable than looking at dead bodies. 

Is an open casket better than a closed one? Not in our case. LOL.

But seeing a body must help internalize something; give a sense of finality. 

We didn’t have an open casket for my sister, Melissa.

The plane that carried my sister went missing with no witnesses and no recorded flight plan. It felt extremely fake. 

Is an open casket better than a closed one? Not in our case. LOL.

The night before she went missing, Melissa and I spoke on Skype. 

We talked for over an hour. She did not mention plans to board a plane the next day. 

While she was missing, my family went to Melissa’s apartment to double-check that she wasn’t hanging out in her room and ignoring her phone calls. Also to feed Melissa’s cat, Snibbles.

I asked my mom to look for the camera, to which I was now oddly attached. 

Is an open casket better than a closed one? Not in our case. LOL.

Snibbles is a de-clawed indoor cat on whom we project fantasies of escaping to the great outdoors.

My family learned that Melissa had gone on a plane sight-seeing trip with some friends around Glacier National Park.

Is an open casket better than a closed one? Not in our case. LOL.

Glacier covers over one million acres of places to hide plane crashes. The park is also surrounded by millions of acres of additional plane-crash-hiding forest and wilderness. 

It was like playing “Where’s Waldo?” but less fun. For several days, rescuers searched for the plane.

Did the plane fly to Canada? Did they crash in a river? Did they crash and die, their bodies eaten by bears? (a ranger told us this happened after a plane crash several years earlier). Did they crash in the wilderness and were attempting to hike out on broken legs? 

Is an open casket better than a closed one? Not in our case. LOL.

Of course, most of the survivors in JP3 are later eaten by dinosaurs.

After three days of scouring the remote wilderness, search parties found the wreckage. My younger sister Emily messaged me on Skype.

Is an open casket better than a closed one? Not in our case. LOL.

My dad called. Turns out it wasn’t a ruse by Snibbles after all. LOL.

I returned home to prepare for Melissa’s funeral. On arrival, I was welcomed by new terrible details. 

Is an open casket better than a closed one? Not in our case. LOL.

Snibbles pretended like nothing even happened.

Is an open casket better than a closed one? Not in our case. LOL.

Melissa was getting regular dental checkups. Good for her.

It took the coroner a few days to report the cause of death.

My family was terrified that Melissa and her friends had survived the crash, only to be trapped in the plane during the subsequent fire.

The autopsy came. I never read it, but I remember the manila folder sitting in our living room.

My mom told me what the autopsy said. 

Is an open casket better than a closed one? Not in our case. LOL.

They weren’t killed in the fire. They were killed before the fire. lol.

The casket was closed at Melissa’s funeral. Was having it open even allowed?

Did I want to see her remains, knowing I would never be able to un-see? I don’t know. I know that I was curious. I know that I was scared.

Is an open casket better than a closed one? Not in our case. LOL.

I still don’t know the extent of the damage to the bodies. I never asked to see pictures.

We gave the mortician a yellow dress for Melissa to wear inside the casket. She had been searching for a yellow dress, and a few days before she died, she called my mom to say she had found one. 

Is an open casket better than a closed one? Not in our case. LOL.

Did I really want answers? 

I wanted to see Melissa’s body when we found out she had died. I wanted to protect her body, even if she wasn’t “there” anymore.

I hate that her body was burned after the crash. I hate the images my mind conjures. I hate knowing that there was any type of injury on her body at all.

I wanted to cry over her like they get to in the movies—and some people get to do in real life.

Is an open casket better than a closed one? Not in our case. LOL.

Sometimes I think not seeing Melissa’s body, and not having an open casket at her funeral, is at the core of a problem I’ve experience since she died—incessant “GOTCHA” dreams. 

Is an open casket better than a closed one? Not in our case. LOL.

GOTCHA!

Is an open casket better than a closed one? Not in our case. LOL.

Before Mel’s death, I imagined my dreams would allow me to reconnect following the death of a loved one. I assumed dreams would be a way—the way—to stay connected to a person after their death. It would be a beautiful, calming experience. 

Instead my dreams after Melissa died are … disappointing.

In the dreams, Melissa tries to lead me astray with bogus excuses of her whereabouts.

Is an open casket better than a closed one? Not in our case. LOL.

New Dumphries? Cha-right.

Is an open casket better than a closed one? Not in our case. LOL.

Definitely a fake school. 

Is an open casket better than a closed one? Not in our case. LOL.

My sister was a terrible liar.

Waking up from these dreams is the worst. 

Is an open casket better than a closed one? Not in our case. LOL.

But I don’t hug her. 

Instead of appreciating her, I drill her with 20 questions about her whereabouts, irritated by her implausible answers.

Would I have the dreams I romanticized—where I get to reconnect with Melissa and it’s an awesome and beautiful experience—if she hadn’t died suddenly? Would my dreams be rose-colored if her body hadn’t been blacker than burnt toast, and I could have seen her?

Is an open casket better than a closed one? Not in our case. LOL.

I have no idea. Lol.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

Sarah 12 Comments

I got the idea to call my dead sister’s cell phone from the movie P.S. I Love you, a story about a young woman whose husband suddenly dies.

Following the funeral, the wife lies in bed calling his cell phone over and over.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

It was the saddest thing I’d ever seen.

When my sister Melissa died, I called her constantly.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

I sobbed when she didn’t answer.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

I sobbed listening to her voicemail and I obsessed.

I pulled my family into it.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

It was a little funny.

During one of my routine calls to Melissa, something weird happened.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

Something that barged in on my pity party.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

Something that introduced me to Jeff.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

I hung up on Jeff.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

Melissa’s cell phone account had only been closed a few months. My beloved calling routine had been taken from me by Jeff, aided by the dicks over at Verizon.

As pack leader, it was my job to ensure that my younger brother and sister knew how to react.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

Fueled by “coping-with-depression-via-alcohol,” I made a call.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

I gauged his reaction to a drunk dial.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

He seemed game.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

Jeff and I connected immediately.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

But I had the right number. And it was Jeff’s.

Jeff and I had an amazing summer together.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

I couldn’t wait to get him on the line for a rip-roaring chat.

Classic Jeff.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

I don’t remember much of our conversations.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

What I do remember is the excitement shared when Jeff and I connected on the line.

If my life was a movie, Jeff getting Melissa’s phone number would have been one of those silver-lining things you hear about when people die. Like Jeff and I were supposed to meet. And Melissa dying was the only way that could happen.

A few months into my new routine with Jeff, I got a text from an unknown number.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

My life isn’t exactly like a sad movie.

Author’s Note:

I discuss the 3 D’s and Jeff on the podcast Everyone Dies, a nonprofit exploring life-limiting illness, dying, and death. To jump to the interview, begin listening at 30:39 minutes in. In the first half of the podcast, nurse practitioner Marianne Matzo and co-host Charlie Navarrette discuss the role of depression, cognitive tests, and brain imaging used to diagnose dementia or other possible causes. You can find the podcast on Spotify, Apple, or wherever you get your Podcasts. Just search Everyone Dies (Every1Dies‪). Or listen here!

Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

Sarah Leave a comment

family pooptrait - Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

I had a family of six until Melissa kicked the can.

My sister Melissa was short like my mom, blonde like my dad and when she was younger, she liked to make naked Barbies have sex.

My siblings and I were never given the option to dislike one another, which prompted us to grow close. Before Melissa died, our roles in the family were clearly defined by birth order.

pack leader - Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

middle children - Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

the baby - Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

Joe still needs his diaper changed.

It took me years of relentless teasing to break my brother. Joe and I played fun games together, like me teasing him and him asking me to stop.

“Cut it out!” he would scream.

Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

Joe would finally walk away.

big teddy - Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

Once his back turned, I dropped his possessions.

My fingers moved in rapid scissor motion. Cutting it out, I murmured: “cut, cut, cut…”

cut it out - Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

He would shout:

scissors - Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

But I was always doing the scissors.

cut it out - Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

As a middle child, my role included skirting my responsibilities.

Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

Despite my mother’s best efforts, I was usually acquitted.

Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

My younger sister Emily bought us lunch.

Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

Melissa was the hardest sibling to torment because she was a step ahead of me. Eighteen months is a significant age difference when you’re a kid.

She knew I was a greedy little girl who loved money, so she glued a quarter to the kitchen floor.

Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

In high school, I wore cool t-shirts.

Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

At the same time that I was wearing these shirts, I was desperately trying to hide my issues with Irritable Bowel Syndrome (constant diarrhea).

If I had lived during caveman times, I would have been naturally selected out.

natural selection - Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

Diarrhea is an embarrassing problem.

Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

And the all-girl mob always follows.

Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

I would have to hold in diarrhea while peeing. Tortuously unsatisfying.

Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

I would do anything to keep it from people.

Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

“Let it go….Let it go…”

Daily diarrhea before 9:00 am is one of my superpowers. When I went off to college, I continued to master the art of hiding my diarrhea problems. The professor of an 8:00 am art class had a strict attendance policy: be late more than twice, and get docked a letter grade.

I spoke with my art professor, hoping to garner sympathy for my case.

Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

Naturally, she was cool about it.

Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

Nearing the end of college, I figured I should attempt adult things. So I got a summer internship.

It was the most courageous thing I had ever done.

Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

While I was abroad, I got a Facebook message about Melissa from someone I didn’t know.

Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

I was confused by the cryptic message.

Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

I questioned the cryptic message.

Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

The Facebook stranger was the first to break the news to me.

I doubt the person had any idea how terrible it felt to receive earth-shattering news from a stranger via social media.

Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

A lot of things happened quickly.

Head first, I was cast from my coveted position as middle child.

Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

A new sign formed above my head.

Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

I was given a new hat.

Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role

With Melissa gone, my time as pack leader had begun.

Oldest sister found dead; real tragedy occurs when middle sister assumes leadership role