outer-jessie's Diaryland Diary

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you let them go...

I do owe you guys an entry, even if I'm not feeling quite up to it. It'll be short. Unless I get into the swing of it, in which case...it'll be long.

Friday night Rob and I sat through a sufficient amount of traffic. Sufficient. We rounded up his mom (of course it took much longer for Rob to be ready, as he needed me to help him pick out an outfit. At the very last of minutes), and headed off for the boat. The Yo-in-Law was introduced all around before we even got on the boat. She was a very popular entity. Everyone thought she was great.

The boat was a fabulous time. Lots of alcohol ("four sombreros, please"), loud music, lots of food, lots and LOTS of cousins. I was quietly and internally having a nervous breakdown realizing that a good 60% of these people were not on my list for my wedding, yet would have to be there. Listen: do you hear that? It's the sound of Jessie going completely bankrupt.

I got mad at Rob on Friday night and subsequently abstained from speaking to him all Saturday. It was none too fun. But he would rather not talk to me all day than settle a petty argument, so, so be it. He hung out with my young cousins for the bulk of the day, and I mingled like I swear to god I have never mingled before.

And then.

I was sitting with my brother and his friends chatting, and my brother mentioned that he heard one of the kids in his class had died that day. A twenty-year-old kid. One that I used to hang out with casually when we were young kids.

He was a friend of a friend's brother. My friend Emily, who was my neighborhood friend (and still very good friend, bridesmaid in fact) and I would hang around and watch tv with her brother and his neighborhood friends. Mostly, it would be Emily and me, Conor and Zack. We'd all stay over and wake up late on Saturday mornings, watch old taped episodes of the Simpsons while eating something disgusting, play sharks and minnows in the pool or go sledding on our flimsy sheets of plastic. Just play, like kids do.

And now Zack's dead. Twenty years old. Hit by a truck on his way to college. And there's no reason to that. There's no why, no wherefore, no fucking reason. Could it have happened to anyone else? Absolutely. Could it have been avoided? Absolutely. Was it? No. Fucking no.

Pain like this does not go away. I heard about this and through my tears I realized that it felt the same as when Adam committed suicide, when Sequoia was killed in a car accident when she and her dad fell asleep on a long empty road. The pain is always there. It will come back. The only thing to do is wait. Live your life. Distance yourself from it with time. It doesn't go away, but it does get covered up. With new memories, new questions, new love, new hate. There's no way for anyone or anything to take your pain away. You have to face it, look it in the eyes, accept it, and let it go.

I'm all right now, honestly; don't be concerned. I'm sad now for my friend and her brother, and for the family and everyone who really loved him. He was a part of my life and a part of my memories and I'm sorry to see him go. But I know I don't hurt a fraction as badly as do these others.

Just goes to show you though, that ties to people can never be severed. People can come back from your childhood to affect you all over again.

There's more to tell, and not any of it as sucky as this, but I don't think this entry is the place. Take care, guys.

3:11 p.m. - 2002-08-27

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