Mitch died yesterday. He was 35. He was supposed to get married this weekend. He felt heartburn last night and threw up. He woke up and texted his friends something funny at 5am. Then, Sara found him cold at 7:30 when she went to kiss him good bye on her way to work.
Dad called me while I was at work and I thought it was a joke. Diane had apparently asked him to tell us. She didn't know how to tell Lee. Which meant that I needed to tell Lee. He couldn't hear it from my dad. I called Lee and told him and he immediately got off the phone to call Diane. I told work I was leaving and took an Uber home. Lee and I saw each other and cried and held each other. Then we took the drive down to Baltimore to Mitch's apartment. The ME was there, which meant Mitch was still there, which was surreal. We were kept in a model apartment with no door on the bathroom, as the police and the ME worked. Then we moved back to the place where Lee's Mom and Dad were staying until they could move into their house in Delaware. And mostly we sat. And cried. And sat. And waited for information from the funeral home. Mom and dad were there for a little. We tried to make ourselves useful by printing things.
Lee and I went home after that and ate pizza and watched episode after episode of Eureka. Until about midnight. We were both so tired, but neither of us wanted to go to sleep because of how Mitch died. We got a few hours of sleep, then watched Eureka and waited again for the arrangements. We traveled to the funeral home to get papers signed. I am very glad we weren't having the service there because it was very strange. The theme seemed to be black and gold, but it had funky shiny hard floors, and mismatched art. On the floor in one of the offices was a large, framed stock family photo from the 1980s with a family and grandparents posing awkwardly. I kept sitting and noticing the strange snake skin like carpet. The cracked moth painting. The jewelry display bust. The fake photo album.
We got the paperwork signed and then headed to Harolyn's again. We helped them get ready, then the families, the wedding party, and the rabbi showed up. We shared stories about Mitch, and it was really cathartic and nice. The rabbi wrote it all down. Then the two families started clashing about shiva logistics. Sara and Lee tried to smooth it out and make it work for everyone. It was a really hard situation. All the while I was trying to be a conduit of information to our friends while trying not to bother anyone.
And now I am home. Lee is at a meeting.
It is a really hard thing. May is my month of compassion, and on the very first day, I have to use it to the very dregs. Patience and support. All while all of our hearts are breaking. I never thought a broken heart would actually hurt. But it does.
The first day, our hearts were heavy, but our extremities were all tingly and we were lightheaded and weak. Day two is like our hearts are dark and heavy, but there are a thousand lacerations in them that ache whenever we move.
Even the smallest things. The wedding gift bags on the dining room table. Wedding invitations on the fridges. Childhood photos. Seemingly innocuous songs from Hamilton. Moments in Eureka episodes. I saw an advertisement for North Carolina on a truck, and thought "Well I am glad it was not Maine." That is where they were going on their honeymoon. Then a truck advertising Maine goes by in the opposite direction.
I think about Sara. Waking up and finding him cold. Wondering if she could have done more. Having all the energy and everything ready for the wedding, and then having to slowly unravel it all. I keep thinking, what if it had been me. We both married a Liebeskind brother.
I used to have nightmares about waking up and finding him dead. Especially as we got close to the wedding. And it didn't happen. But I always leave the house with "I love you" as the last thing I say to him just in case. And here it happened.
I keep thinking of Diane and Al. Mitch was always the one who took the most care of them. Birthdays, holidays. He always had something for them. I didn't want to presume, if Lee didn't do things himself. Now we are the only ones left. The only ones left to take care of them and call them on their birthdays. The only ones left to give them grandchildren, but not Jewish grandchildren. As a Catholic mother, I am unable to do that. We have to be everything for them now. To try and fill a hole that can never be filled.
I keep getting the vision that the universe is different now. Something that was supposed to be here isn't. It left this giant gaping space where a life was supposed to be. A future. A family. And that path is now cut off. No Uncle Mitch.
Lee had the thought that, when we have kids, the child will have a name beginning with M, because that is part of the tradition. And that child will never know Mitch. He or she will have Uncle Brian and Aunt Jen, but they live far away. Part of me wants to get pregnant right now before anything else happens.
It also makes you want to experience life a little more. Not more stuff, but to pay attention. Food tastes really good. We hold hands a lot and pay attention to the feel. You stand outside and notice the breeze and the sun. It is the "every, every minute" monologue in Our Town.
I kept seeing a bumblebee outside of Harolyn's house. It made me happy to think that it might have been Mitch. He was big and friendly and insistent like that. He was there on the day he died, and again today.
Tonight, I am trying to see friends. We have been doing a lot of taking care of others, and I think it will be important to be taken care of tonight. I hope we get to do that. We have several more days of funeral and shiva an our hearts breaking over and over. It is going to be a rough road. But we will do it together.
PS. Grieving makes you thirsty. We have gone through more water than I thought possible. It is very strange.
