Jena: 5 Years Later

My morning opened with me lying on my back, Savasana, on my mat in the yoga studio at 5:45am. As I waited for our instructor, I breathed in the memory and life of a friend. I breathed out the sadness I still feel, along with any anger or bitterness I had, too.

Today, I owe a special note of gratitude to Jena. 
Jena and I met in middle school, and were best friends for several years, before we started growing into our own lives with school, family, etc.

Five years and four days ago, Jena and I talked on the phone. She was coming back from her then-home in Texas, and I was planning a trip from Cincinnati to our hometown, and our plans to get together were made. It had been over two years since I'd seen her in person, with distance, family and daily life putting a get-together on hold. I didn't realize then that our plans would never find fruition, and that that was the last time I would ever talk to her.

Five years ago today, I was at a dinner party to celebrate the birthday of a friend here in Cincinnati. I snuck away to the upstairs bedroom where my phone was charging; Sydni wasn't yet 3 months old and I was being the paranoid new mom who abandoned her little baby with Grandma for the night [Moms, you've been there.. dramatically worried about nothing at all....]. I found two missed calls and a text message from Hilary, another friend and voice from my childhood. I called her back. 

It was urgent. She was crying. Between short breaths and the unknown place my mind went for what seemed like an hour, I learned that Jena had, that night, lost her battle with depression. With her anxiety. Her fight was over. 

I broke in half. I did what every survivor of someone else's suicide does on impact: I looked inward and immediately said, "This can't be real. Why?! What could I have DONE to keep this from happening?!" 

This wasn't about me. 

This was about what she had experienced. The pain that she must have internalized day in and day out, to the point of isolation from which she believed she would only find reprieve by making the choice to leave.

If there's anything I've learned along the way in this life, it's that time serves a mighty role in lessening the pain of loss, but it certainly doesn't erase it. When a loved one parts ways with their earthly bodies, it strips us of something. A piece of us goes with that person, and we are left to rebuild ourselves to counteract that void. Over time, those gaps become surrounded by the other ebbs and flows of our daily life, and the accumulation of gathered experiences and people that find us after that point of loss. They are still there though. They may be less noticeable on a daily basis, but they are there, and when our mind finds them for whatever reason, it is just as painful to reflect back on that loss as it was the day that it happened.

The beautiful thing that time does provide for this type of loss is the clarity of vision to more evenly focus on and celebrate that person's life, rather than dwell on the emptiness of their absence. It's not always possible to fully reflect back and smile at the thought of someone gone too soon, but when enough time has passed to satisfy our immediate grieving response, the highlights of that person's life are not only more visible, but more vivid, beautiful... gratifying. 

Funny. Sentimental. Inspiring. Teaching. Triumphant. 

It's not to say those gone before us lived without shortcomings and lessons hard-learned, but those things become trivial when we are able to grasp the full impact the person had on us in the first place. 

love. 

Jena, I am sorry.
I'm sorry for you, for those whose footsteps you followed, for those who followed your footsteps, and for those who will inevitably do so despite our efforts. I am sorry that you had to experience that kind of debilitating pain. Pressure. Unrelenting anxiety. I am sorry that, for whatever reason(s), your closest family and friends were unable to penetrate the glass bubble into which you sank by yourself. I'm so, so sorry that we couldn't save you.

I am sorry that you weren't able to recognize the way your presence made the lives of those around you better. I'm sorry that we weren't able to alleviate the afflictions that were consuming you, or at least lessen them to the point of treatment. I'm sorry that I wasn't more available to you. I know I was far down the line of people who may have been able to to intervene in those last few hours, but I hope you know that none of us are better off with you gone, and would have shouted that through the mountains if we thought it would've saved you. You were beautiful, and you still are, now as a guardian over those of us still here.

I do miss you. I miss going to your house, laughing over the trivial things that comprise the life of middle-schoolers: the who's-dating-who, when the next school-wide event would be [& what we'd wear to said event], and what rubber band colors we'd choose the next time we had adjustments with our orthodontists. I miss phasing through those awkward years when our bodies and minds were transitioning from children to young women: When we stepped into high school for the first time. When we thought our high school boyfriends might.. just.. be the ONE for forever and ever after. When we graduated. When, 4 years after that, we graduated college in different states. When we talked infrequently via phone, but still enough to know that the other was still excited to stay connected. When we finally made plans that never happened.

It's been five years.

Here's what's happened since then, as it relates to what I learned from losing you. From scratching my plans and taking days off from work to come home for your memorial service and funeral, I've learned. From holding myself together as your parents and brothers stumbled through those things at a loss of words and surprised that they still had tears left to cry - at the risk of disrespecting their pain... I've grown.

Here is what happened:

On that day, and for the immediate weeks and months following: I grieved. I comforted and was comforted by our friends and your family. I teetered back and forth between the sting of knowing you and little Braylon were gone, and the unavoidable mixture of betrayal and guilt, knowing that I had spoken with you just a mere four days prior to this, and somehow didn't detect a thing. I struggled to see through your absence into the bigger picture. I struggled a lot with those selfish emotions, before I could even begin to understand reality:

It wasn't YOU, my FRIEND who made that choice, but the disease that is depression, anxiety, mental abuse.. that pushed you to that point.

I left Mount Vernon and returned to my life in Cincinnati, entrenched in the idea that this should never happen. I researched for almost a full week on ways to get involved, and finally enlisted myself as a Field Advocate for the AFSP [American Foundation for Suicide Prevention]. I had three phone interviews with three different levels of local representatives, and learned a number of ways to make local, tangible contributions to the mission of edification and reach into those dark corners that you must have seen first hand. I wrote a couple of articles as a contributor on AFSP forums for suicide survivors: I was honest and raw about my ignorance to your struggle. I was bold in my call to action, which may or may not have reached anyone at all, even though I hope it did.

I've added to my ability to cope with disappointment, anger, fear and loss. I gained a new layer of understanding for the grieving process, and how to be a real shoulder to others in my life who would come to me in times of brokenness. You serve as a constant reminder and motivator to pour myself into each of my friendships and relationships - even those that have grown apart just by the course of life. I strive to stay connected and make the extra effort, sometimes when it's inconvenient, because I believe those who care for me would do the same. I try harder to love: openly and honestly, without judgment. I try to listen more. I try to instill in my daughter these principles, and the drive to show compassion - always - to everyone. I won't be able to shield her from the harsh realities and heartbreak that come as an essential part of growing, but if I can prepare her heart and mind to be a light in a dark world, perhaps one day she'll save someone in her own life who is on the edge of giving up. On the inside, I made a promise to you to seek help when I am overwhelmed. I'm not good at being emotionally-expressive, but I am not indestructible, as much as I force myself to be at times. I'm reminded that it's okay to be vulnerable.

It's my hope. I'm not perfect and I fail often at doing those things, but I know better than to look the other way.

******

It's five years later and I am still a Field Advocate for AFSP. I still try to partner with them when possible. I think of you every single time. I hope you know that you taught me a valuable lesson: Think. Act. Listen. Love.

In the active form, TALL:
Thinking, Acting, Listening. Loving.
Thinker. Action-taker. Listener. Lover.

♥.

Thank you Jena, for the impact you had on my life as a friend while you were here.
And now, thank you for serving as the mascot for me whenever I start to forget the importance of being TALL.

You're on a lot of hearts & minds today. Smile back at us, ok?

Love you, dear friend.

xo | cmd

Let's NOT Forget

Yes, I remember where I was when the first plane hit the World Trade Center in 2001. I will never forget the confusion, fear and anger that spread out over all of us, two states away in classrooms that would never feel the physical aftermath of the buildings collapsing to the ground. I was stunned. The entire world was stunned.

And now, it's 13 years later. Thirteen years later. I hope that amount of time does nothing to dull our sympathies for the families whose loved ones never returned that day, and that we will remember what that day meant for our nation as a unit to respond and band together with each other against the enemy.

Facebook of course was teeming all day with pictures to commemorate the 13th anniversary of that horrible event; two of them stood out to me and I hope they might resonate with someone out there, as well.

the twin towers

a light against the sky.. we will not forget

For the service personnel and rescuers on and following that day in 2001, and for the families of those who never reported back: Thank you, from one person and her family here in Ohio, for the sacrifice you endured to uphold the safety of our nation and all of us in it. We are indebted to you.

In our daily routine here, it was the standard workday followed by picking up Sydni and heading to the store for some last minute dinner items. Sydni specifically needed some noodles and green beans, so she bought, bagged and carried her own groceries.

little grocery shopper

Yep. That's my little Toms-wearing, canvas-bag-toting, wind-blown-hair child marching out of Kroger like she just bought the place. I. Love. Her.

Tomorrow is Friday and that is fine with me.

xo | cmd

No Coffee After Noon

Don't judge me.
Today was a coffe day.
Like...... noon coffee. Yeah, I had my chance to snatch it up in the morning, but I didn't really feel like it until noon. 

whatev.

Anyone who knows me [namely myself, in this case] should know... very well .. that coffee is like sheer adrenaline to me these days, since I've actively cut back on daily consumption. Drinking COFFEE... at NOON.... probably would've been ill-advised by the 4:30pm me. Duh.

Basically, it meant that I was in no mood to do any more moving of any more things to any more places by the time work ended and I was en route back to the new digs. This, again, was a selective choice that I made out of my obsession to reach a desired state of semi-organization. I pushed myself into a lot of frustration this evening, wasn't very kind to Rob [who isn't doing anything wrong...] and left the house knowing I hadn't accomplished what I wanted to for whatever reason lay between me and what I deemed to be progress.

And then I saw this, posted who-knows-where, and promptly made it the background on my phone:

truth. rinse & repeat!

^ This really is not that serious, Cori. It's just moving, and I have plenty of time to get everything where it needs to be. Also, you look and sound like an idiot getting aggravated over what really.. is nothing.

That being said, I've apologized to Rob for being such a downer and noted to myself that there will be a 10am-or-sooner cutoff to consuming coffee at work. Real. Talk.

So yeah. We'll try again, tomorrow.

xo | cmd

9/11 : The People

Disclosure:
THERE MAY BE IMAGES HERE THAT YOU DON'T CARE TO SEE. MY INTEREST IS NOT TO OFFEND, BUT TO PAY HOMAGE TO OUR PEOPLE FROM THAT DAY
.. ALL OF THEM.

It's been 12 years.
It goes without saying for most of us that we do remember exactly where we were when this happened. I know I do.

Here's a video, made by my cousin Jeremy. He is a veteran of our US Military, and with all the respect I have, I salute him and ALL of our service men and women [& their families]. Thank you, Jeremy, for putting this together.

*sorry there's no sound... there was an error getting the soundtrack on, but frankly, I think seeing this in silence is just as well.

I'll probably ask this question every year when this day comes around and we are faced with the task of remembering a day when we lost thousands of friends, family members, colleagues and members of rescue and aid forces. Forces barged in on us, costing us the lives of our people and throwing our country into a state of panic and war.

This will not be a political post.

In the past years, I've dwelled on the political side of the 9/11 aftermath, but today... my mind wanders to the people whose stories we might never hear.

My best friend's uncle works for the airlines. He lost one of his best friends that day, after he helped her get onto the flight that ended in Pennsylvania. The ripple of those directly affected that day started with every person aboard one of those four planes [coined P4]: American Airlines' Flights 11 & 77, United Flight 175 and United Airlines' Flight 93. Combined on those four flights, 232 people lost their lives on impact when the planes followed their forced courses.

images we'll never forget ..

On more than one occasion, I've worked with employees in the service industry. That's one facet of my job. Today I think of some of them - men and women who at times were my favorite employees due to their work ethic, attitudes and overall outlook on life. Their daily duties required many of them to maintain a distance from the hustle and bustle, or serve after business hours when the halls and conference rooms were quiet. I think of these people and of those like the who lost their lives in the attack and never had their stories shared. On that day, I have no doubt that many of them became a fleeing person, no different than the CEO at the opposite end of the company's ladder.

Then I think of the children. Over the past couple of years especially, I've noticed more coverage on the children left without one or both parents from that day. Many of the stories are focused on the children who are nearing their pre-teens now - boys and girls whose fathers were killed before they were born. Of course, not to discredit mothers, there are also the stories of children who as babies lost theirs that day. I've read articles on the bonds struck between many of those families, solely based off of that day. I'm saddened by the void in their lives that has become more 'manageable' over time, but certainly not any less obvious or painful. I'm encouraged though, by the stories of encouragement, community support and love that these families have given to each other over the past 12 years.

the "babies" of 9/11

For very obvious reasons, I gravitated too, towards the people who lost their lives that day.
If you're the average human, like me, the closest you've come to losing your life was probably a car accident, or perhaps something a little more serious or freakish. In those seconds, there is nothing to consider except our actions in the split seconds and moments to follow. For me, the nearest brush I had with losing my life was a serious car accident; I can assure you that I had no time then to consider what the rest of my life would or wouldn't hold, and who I would or wouldn't see ever again to tell about it.

That day was a different story. Of all the pictures I've ever seen from that day, this is among the top five that I hate the most. The people look so small against the landscape of that building, and I cannot see their faces, but my heart was crushed when I saw this. [photo from NatGeo; see others HERE]. These were people caught above the point of impact in one of the towers.

fleeing the fire...

I, along with the rest of the country, watched with gaping mouths and horrified eyes as this happened in 2001. I wasn't there. I wasn't clinging to the outside of a building, looking down at a street eclipsed by fire and flames. I wasn't facing my death like these people were. Twelve years later, my heart still aches for them; the humanity in me hopes they left this world quickly, with minimal suffering and pain. My eyes still tear up a little thinking of family members or friends who received their last phone calls from these people [& of course those at the Pentagon, as well]. I... can't... imagine.

Then, I selfishly think of my friends, my family members, acquaintenances I have.. who serve our country and her citizens... whether on military forces, local law enforcement, emergency responders, etc. I cringe to think of losing a single one of them. I share my country's brokenness at remembering every one of them that we lost from this: from that day, the days that followed, and over the course of time between then and now, here at home and overseas. My gratitude alone pales to what they and their families have endured, given and lost. To say I am thankful for them isn't a fraction of what I really mean.

mike kehoe, running up stairs while others fled down them.
[another from NatGeo]

As of today, I don't know the type of terror that thousands of people stared down facing their deaths or narrowly escaping them. I can believe that for them, for the families and for us as a still-grieving nation, that time does what it can to ease the immediate shock, that that it stops there and the rest is still relatively fresh for us all, in our own ways.

It's not over either. We lost four of our own one year ago today in the Benghazi embassy attack in Libya. Sure, the casualties in 2001 were a striking number, but lives are lives and this is not a movie. These people are not coming back, and for that, I am so.. so sad.

My goosebumps really start when I remember that not only did we fight back, but we rallied together on all fronts: locally, nationally and globally. YES, I am aware.. of the delicate line of crossing over into arguing about the war, about our government's decisions, etc.. but like I said, I'm leaving politics on the sideline for now and paying what respect I can to the PEOPLE who deserve them today.

The first flag that was raised on the site of the Twin Towers after the attack on 9-11-2001:

 And today, our memorials for those sites:

twin towers, new york city

pentagon, washington d.c.



And of course.. the rebuilding of a single World Trade building.. as captured by an earth cam on a time lapse compilation. We RE-BUILD!


For the men and women of this country who have stepped up to serve it in the most dangerous ways as members of military operations: thank you. To your families, who are the primary support system for our troops: thank you. For our emergency reponders, law enforcement and volunteer aids: thank you.

.. And I'm praying. I'm praying for us as a nation. I'm praying for the knowledge and just decision from our country's leaders; regardless of my political beliefs, the leadership in place is who they are and for them.. I pray for wisdom, sound judgment, practicality and honesty. I'm praying for leadership on local levels, and for all of us from there on: for our military forces, their families, those responsible for educating and protecting our children in their classrooms.. and for.. for me: parents, children, siblings, friends, family and colleagues. I often fantacize of a world in which we proactively work to help each other... even if by no other means than not proactively hurting each other.. if that makes any sense.

It's a dream I have, but I found it put best by Gandhi:

.. and it starts with one.

My mission today: start small.. start with me. Start by showing compassion to someone else. Start by  adding those small, daily deposits to my daughter's life in teaching her the values of action. Start by remembering 9/11.

And to finish it up, I'll celebrate. I'll celebrate because I live in free country, protected by its members and supported by its citizens [again, politics aside, but do not confuse it with naiivity..].  I appreciate their service; I have many friends who serve our country and I know how hard they work.

One specifically, happens to have his birthday today... my amazing friend from my all the way to middle school in Mt. Vernon.. haha.. Ferg!

I hate that his birthday is shadowed by such a somber event, but there is absolutely nothing sad about how great this guy is.. and he deserves the best birthday ever!

Happy Birthday, Ferg!

ferg being the least attractive among his gorgeous wife & adorable dog.. :p

*Sigh.. The good news here: it's Hump Day! That means only two more days til the weekend and that is something I'm more than ready to see. Oh, and volleyball tonight. Winning (:

Thanks for tuning in, blogbots (:
Have an amazing week!

xo | cmd

Happy Birthday, Jena ♡

It's both a complete cliche and a gross understatement when people say, "Life is short."

...But ya know what, it is.

 

Today would've been the 29th birthday of my friend Jena. Baby Braylon would be 3 now, and I can't even begin to imagine where they would both be in life.

 

Isn't it strange how we can't remember what we had for breakfast half the time, but will remember with diamond-grade clarity the exact moment we were given news that crushed us? I could tell you precisely where I was, with whom, and even how many other people were there, when Hilary called me to tell me that Jena had passed away, along with unborn baby Braylon.

not my best picture, but jena looks beautiful (: | circa 1999

For my classmates from childhood back in Mt. Vernon, or really any of you who grew up in small towns, it's without a doubt impossible to avoid something like this. The entire community ripples from the blow, regardless of whether or not they were close to the person. They mourn together, are angry together, but most importantly, support and heal together.

Not long after Jena's death, I joined the AFSP [American Foundation for Suicide Prevention]. I'm still an active field representative for Southwestern Ohio, and I would encourage any of you out there to at least check out the organization, for either your sake or for anyone you know who may be fighting that silent battle for whatever reason.

Jena, it will be four years this November since I got that phone call. Today I would've called you to wish you a happy almost 30th birthday, and we would've joked about how we never planned to escape high school, let alone make it to 30. I've been fighting tears already today knowing that you didn't, and trying my best to fill that hurt with the things that I remember that were the reasons we were friends to start with.

My heart is broken today for the Fogle family, for Jamie & RJ and their parents, and for every other family who is now comprised of the survivors of a suicide. [For the Gasiorowski,  Savoia and Dollenger families, to name a few: I know this is a very real pain for you, and my heart goes out to you today.]


I don't know why you did what you did, Jena. For a long time I was angry; I was more furious than I had been with anyone in as long as I could remember. I couldn't fathom reaching that point of complete exhaustion. Like so many people, I thought it was insanely selfish. My heart broke at your service to watch your parents, your brothers, who in their brokenness seemed to have all aged decades in just days. I was angry that we had spoken the day before this happened and made plans for that following weekend. I thought for a long time that if I had been there one week sooner, .............. who really even knows how to finish a sentence like this?! ... I realized once I became a part of the AFSP that I didn't - and won't - ever understand what it feels like to reach that breaking point. I won't ever know what it means to stand on the edge and feel like the last step is the last resort. I won't, so I have no room to judge or speculate over what you felt, what you experienced. All I know is that I'm sorry, for perhaps not listening more, or not being a more proactive friend... whatever it was that I could've done to remind you that you were - ARE - loved. I'm sorry I didn't understand, and I miss you.

I love you my friend, and I hope that you have the most incredible birthday with little Braylon. You have no idea how much you're missed, every day by your family and friends.

.... missing you.

Happy birthday, Jena ♥

xo | cmd