Goodbye, Charlie
Charlie died last night. It was probably around 8PM. I was walking out from behind the kitchen bar, to do something or other, and he was laying on the carpet right next to the table. As soon as I saw him, I knew that he was dead - I could just see it. Something about the total lack of movement just made it obvious.
I called out to mom. She was sweeping like 10 feet away, and came over, and immediately started crying. I comforted her a bit, and then dad came running out of his room. I don't know if he ever touched charlie.
Katie was in the bath, so I went and told her to come out. And then I told her Charlie was dead, and she cried as well.
We tried for a bit to get in contact with Emily, and eventually, we were able to get her on the phone. She was down at her place in south Philly. She cried, when I told her. And wasn't sure if she was gonna come, because she had work the following morning.
She came, and stopped on the way to get a fillet o' fish from McDonalds. Lol. Of all the things to get.
Emmi, Katie, and I all petted him, and then Katie and I put him on a blanket (we did this before Emmi came, I guess). His totally limp body was totally crazy. Emmi carried him out to the car, and I cried when I tried to say good bye to him one last time. Then I went inside. I realized I was unhappy with my goodbye, so I went back outside, and said goodbye again. Emmi and Katie came with me this time.
I woke up this morning and thought about the way that his body looked. Just like totally limp and visibly dead.
When I was looking at him in the moments when we were all just sitting around with his body, it was like my brain kept expected to see his chest rising. I was expecting it, because it always had before. Mom and Katie both felt the same - it was like he almost felt still alive.
It's interesting - people kept asking me if I was sure he was dead. Dad asked me to check his heart. I just knew he was dead, though. It's almost like people didn't want to believe if he was dead, which is so fair.
I didn't cry much, which I feel weird about. I guess I wanted to cry more, but idk why. I just want to express how I feel, and I feel like crying makes it feel like it's sadness leaving my body.
I think crying in front of people is something I struggle with for no reason. It's not like I haven't seen the men in my life cry. I don't know, but I really have a desire to isolate myself when I am crying.
Not isolating myself, and not letting anyone else isolate themselves, is key, I think. Everyone, of course, can opt into whatever process they want. But I want to make sure that we do spend time together thinking about him, remembering him, and more. I want us to mourn him in some healthy way.
What Charlie meant to me: I do think that I loved him, in the way you love and take a sibling for granted.
You just don't really think about them, beyond the annoying and smelly things that they do. I don't think about the tremendous joy he has brought me, although there's been a relative lack of that the past few years, as he got older and sicker and smellier and grumpier.
There's one lesson here that I do think is worth noting: making Charlie fun to spend time with, or at least pleasant to spend time with, did improve his quality of life dramatically. This speaks to what it means to age gracefully - be pleasant to spend time with as you get older (fun, or at least not smelly).
I love you Charlie. I will miss you (but not your smell).