Blake

My Dearest Reader,

I'd like you to meet my cousin, and possibly one of the greatest guys on the planet. Let me preface what I am about to write by saying he passed away last Thursday, by his own hand, with a gun, in the middle of the day. He was battling depression. 

I grew up with my cousins and saw them at every holiday and family function. Every New Year's Day (and my asshole brother's birthday, no coincidence), Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Wedding,and so on. Our grandmothers were sisters and even though there were a few more sibling on that branch of the tree, these two were here in town. They probably don't know it, but I loved to see them, be around them, looked forward to every event and was in despair at the conclusion of each one. The rest of the time I was abandoned and relegated to my life alone; no one to play with and no one to talk to.

I wrote this little blurb on Facebook (you know, where you can keep up with relatives lives without having to actually having to see or speak to them-thanks Mark Zuckerberg whom I love and hate simultaneously) that tells you a little bit:

Heaven called another angel home this week. My cousin Blake , passed unexpectedly a few days ago. This guy is in every childhood memory of every holiday, family birthday and family function. We were always stuck at the 'kids table' because the older kids started to grow up and have boyfriend/husbands. We were the closest in age so he got stuck playing with me while the adults did the adult stuff. As they years went on we all drifted but I always hoped those family functions would return just like the old days, but never to reunite like the day to come this Monday. My condolences go out to his wife, his daughters, and my entire family. I love you all so much. 

There were three of us that were the 'youngest'. Me, Blake and his sister Laura. Everyone else was older and way cooler or had legitimate 'jobs' in the food prep. Laura could hang with her sisters or the grown-ups. Rick (eldest son) and my asshole brother would go off and do guy stuff and poor Blake would get stuck with me. Not always, but often enough. I was tall, awkward with a bad haircut and so not a girly girl. I was already getting used to morphing to fit in, so I just went along with whatever Blake wanted to do.

He was always cool with me. In my cloudy recollection he never tried to blow me off but made sure I was included if we all had to play together. He was always happy and gregarious. As we got older he had a certain insight into what was happening in my house and life when everyone wasn't putting on their social graces of era's long gone. He would talk with me, reassure me, and sometimes just sit with me on the retaining wall of the 'creek' behind his grandmother's house.

In the waning days of the gatherings as our grandmothers passed away he would still reassure me that I was okay, I was strong. He said I had to be there for my mom no matter what happened before. When I ran into him several times around town over the years he would give me the most incredible hug and he knew my struggles and I knew his without a word between us. He would tell me about his wife and daughters and I could see in his face and hear in his words how much he loved them. He radiated love for his family and for me. 

But we knew about depression. We said it was struggle but we were doing okay. We would do what we all do, exchange numbers, promise to call and then never do. Funny how depressed people ache for someone else to make the first move, to reach out, to invite them in. It's because that little bastard voice of depression says "You aren't worthy. They aren't going to call you and you know it. You're a loser and everyone knows it. You suck. No one likes you. No one LOVES you. You are a waste.of.space." (In my case it tells me I am unlovable and has a laundry list of reasons why.) Then it flips you the bird and you go to bed for hours/days/weeks. Or you desperately attempt to hide that shit cause you don't anyone to know and attempt to go about your 'normal' life. And by anyone I mean just the person who will prescribble (not a typo) what you hope will keep you sane. Slap on that Xanex smile and soldier on.

Every time I saw my cousins it was bittersweet for me because it was hard for me because it reminded me of childhood, of the good times and fond memories, yet the depression of being so alone reared up. I believe Blake was a victim of his brain malfunctioning and in so many ways very much like Robin Williams. Mr. Williams suicide upset me tremendously and I wrote a post about it. This is too close to home. Blake was nowhere near in his right mind when he did the unthinkable. He wasn't being selfish, he wasn't weak. He was sick. And like any other disease without a cure, it took his life in a most insidious way.

Medication and depression is a game of russian roulette. Sometimes the combination can be deadly. I also believe you, dear reader, have or has had someone in your life with a mental disorder or disease. For all the #spoonies, I will guess 85% have a co-occurring or overlapping mental disorder. I will further postulate that at least half of those people have stood at the edge of the precipice, looked out or down, held the means to your ends in your hands, and somehow, thankfully, were able to step back. I've been there. I know.

I cannot commit to paper or words those black thoughts that drag you step by step, sobbing, against the small light of salvation far, far away in the distance. I've told you about my buried memories of my actual attempt as a teen and you know about the constant battle. My face is tear-stained, my heart hurts, my eyes are burning. Watching my family throughout the service was difficult, but watching Blake's siblings offer the gifts unglued me. I sobbed in my car. I'm wracked with sobs now. It's one of those times where I want to scream "It's just not fucking fair God!!" My cousin was loved by so many. The processional to the cemetery was at least a mile long. I can see Blake's smile, the twinkle in his eye and hear his voice if he saw that kind of processional-he would say how lucky that person was to have so much love in their life, look at how many cars there are! and for a moment a shadow would cross his face and say how lucky he is. I wish I had made more of an effort. Time goes by so quickly. I want to curl up in a ball and get out of my head. I want to shut that bastard voice up, make it go away, any way I can. I know I shouldn't, but I'll at least have a drink-I have to do something for this awesome guy who kept me sane when we didn't know what sanity was. I love you Blake.