Post by tobiasburden on Jun 6, 2013 16:22:03 GMT -5
A tragedy can do a lot of things to a family unit… sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worst. Right now, though? Watching my brother age further beyond his years than even his habitual drinking would allow him? Watching my sis-in-law Azure look like she’s about to pull it together like her time in the army always taught her to in these situations, and then lose it all again as soon as even one familiar sight set her off all over again?
I feel the bile rise up in the back of my throat, the bitter tears sting my eyes and the unfairness of life in its entirety weigh down on me. We were the Burden family, a burdened family, history had shown time and again that we were incapable of rolling with these situations, and that instilled in me a fear I couldn’t quite put into words.
Calico Burden, my niece… was gone, and wasn’t coming back. Half the evenings – if I hadn’t found something to occupy my time – I could be found in the guest bedroom in LA, staring into nothingness and clutching at Calico’s favorite stuffed animal, a stuffed Moogle I’d actually stitched together for her when she was six months old.
Tobes and I… I figured we were tempered for this type of storm, proverbial skin leathered against the type of emotional damage this sorta stuff could wreak on us. Well… my brother more than I. I was medicated pretty consistently, and my shrink – in light of this event – had committed to honest-to-goodness housecalls to make sure I hadn’t been skipping out on my prescriptions. In the end though, despite the damage we’d gone through in our youth, it had shown us nothing of the tempest we were about to get hit with.
My brother though…
… that Monday morning, after “Mayhem” he stormed into the hospital with enough hopeless anger to tear the foundation of the building apart. I’ve never seen anything quite like a crowd of nurses, doctors and patients part like the red sea in the face of Tobias’ withering thousand-yard-stare.
The look isn’t something I could ever imagine being replicated, which is good, because I prayed I’d never have to see it again. The chill it caused in my bones, the heavy ball of grief it knotted in my stomach… it isn’t often I feel the need to walk on eggshells around my own blood, but in that moment I faded into the background, there would be nothing I could even comprehend of doing to stop him from… whatever he felt fucking inclined to, frankly.
When he’d burst into the room Calico… well… where Calico’s body was. The door took a huge chunk out of the plaster, startling the doctor that had been talking with Azure; She’d been despondent going on ten hours by then. The shock of it all still not hitting her yet. I made sure to slip into the room behind him and shut the door against prying eyes.
I’d like to say my brother walked over to Az, wrapped his arms around her, and assured her that they’d make it through this, but then I’d be lying. Instead, Tobes studied her face, as though he had hoped this had been some elaborate hoax, some mean-spirited prank.
I don’t think his mind quite comprehended it either, as Az stared back at him, her entire face became animated… the pain… the tears in her un-patched eye… all of it. My brother had shaken his head, then stormed over to the bed, the doc had mercifully pulled the sheet up over my niece’s face – though it hit me like a brick to be standing so close to her body – and then… for the first time in my life, I saw Tobias finally felled by grief.
So there I stood, watching two of the strongest people I know weeping inconsolably in the room their daughter died. I’m not good with saying the right thing in the best of times… so I kept my mouth shut. I kept my own sobs in… and I watched… and I waited to be needed again.
It’s been almost two weeks since then, and family and friends have all popped in. Sometimes they catch Tobes or Az when they’re in the mood to talk. Other times they’re locked in their room, deathly silent, and I have to be the messenger boy, the little brother, and I’m the one that's supposed to be strong now, because two of the closest people in my life simply can’t be any more.
I wasn’t alone, thankfully. Mike had more than a few words to share, and Nat’s phone calls to Az gave her a little more urge to walk around the house and converse. Tori would often be over with whatever type of take-out she’d picked up, making sure the two at least ate, still acting as the ever vigilant silent-sentinel to the chaos our little dysfunctional unit tended to create.
Georgie Nickels’ “brothers” had also been invaluable in keeping the press away. In keeping the entire situation quiet, at least until that Hugh Veyron jackass stuck his nose in and publicized my niece’s passing across the media. Since then it had been a mild media blitz, phonecalls at every hour being routed to either my cell phone, or Mike would field them and many a death threat would be uttered. I’m surprised none of the bastards tried to have my half-brother arrested for threats of bodily harm… but then, he does have a way with words… and an even more infamous way of following through with them.
Tonight seemed to be remarkable, a breakthrough, even. When the bedroom door opened and both Tobes and Az stepped out, walked into the living room and sat down in front of the television.
My sister-in-law’s hair is a mess, and she looks haggard, and Tobias’ unkempt beard tries in vain to cover his weathered face, but here they sit, with me, on the couch, staring vacantly at the television as though trying to fake a sense of normalcy.
“… we got anything to drink?”
I’m at the fridge before either of them can blink; bottle of bourbon for Tobes and some kinda red wine for Az’. Normally I wasn’t a proponent of problem drinking, but fuck it, they were actually initiating conversation with me!
I set the bottles in front of them – glasses were a non-factor in this type of endeavor – and sit down. I was waiting for some type of revelation… or some type of inspirational pick-me-up. Something that would let me know that they could – and WOULD – get past this, move on from it, and not let it control their life.
A half an hour later, that hope has waned, and with the exception of “yes" and "no” answers all communication has been all but non-existent, just two currently broken parents drinking themselves into oblivion.
I feel hopeless and angry… hopeless at the situation and angry at… fuck, everything, I guess. At whatever deity exists for stealing the life of a three year old girl, at my brother for searching for the solution at the bottom of a bottle, at myself for having no answers.
I get up and head to the guest room…
… and they remain. Drinking and broken, until sleep takes them both into tomorrow, where they’ll either search for the answers, or deny the truth.
I was still asleep when ESPN called.
Toby answered...
I feel the bile rise up in the back of my throat, the bitter tears sting my eyes and the unfairness of life in its entirety weigh down on me. We were the Burden family, a burdened family, history had shown time and again that we were incapable of rolling with these situations, and that instilled in me a fear I couldn’t quite put into words.
Calico Burden, my niece… was gone, and wasn’t coming back. Half the evenings – if I hadn’t found something to occupy my time – I could be found in the guest bedroom in LA, staring into nothingness and clutching at Calico’s favorite stuffed animal, a stuffed Moogle I’d actually stitched together for her when she was six months old.
Tobes and I… I figured we were tempered for this type of storm, proverbial skin leathered against the type of emotional damage this sorta stuff could wreak on us. Well… my brother more than I. I was medicated pretty consistently, and my shrink – in light of this event – had committed to honest-to-goodness housecalls to make sure I hadn’t been skipping out on my prescriptions. In the end though, despite the damage we’d gone through in our youth, it had shown us nothing of the tempest we were about to get hit with.
My brother though…
… that Monday morning, after “Mayhem” he stormed into the hospital with enough hopeless anger to tear the foundation of the building apart. I’ve never seen anything quite like a crowd of nurses, doctors and patients part like the red sea in the face of Tobias’ withering thousand-yard-stare.
The look isn’t something I could ever imagine being replicated, which is good, because I prayed I’d never have to see it again. The chill it caused in my bones, the heavy ball of grief it knotted in my stomach… it isn’t often I feel the need to walk on eggshells around my own blood, but in that moment I faded into the background, there would be nothing I could even comprehend of doing to stop him from… whatever he felt fucking inclined to, frankly.
When he’d burst into the room Calico… well… where Calico’s body was. The door took a huge chunk out of the plaster, startling the doctor that had been talking with Azure; She’d been despondent going on ten hours by then. The shock of it all still not hitting her yet. I made sure to slip into the room behind him and shut the door against prying eyes.
I’d like to say my brother walked over to Az, wrapped his arms around her, and assured her that they’d make it through this, but then I’d be lying. Instead, Tobes studied her face, as though he had hoped this had been some elaborate hoax, some mean-spirited prank.
I don’t think his mind quite comprehended it either, as Az stared back at him, her entire face became animated… the pain… the tears in her un-patched eye… all of it. My brother had shaken his head, then stormed over to the bed, the doc had mercifully pulled the sheet up over my niece’s face – though it hit me like a brick to be standing so close to her body – and then… for the first time in my life, I saw Tobias finally felled by grief.
So there I stood, watching two of the strongest people I know weeping inconsolably in the room their daughter died. I’m not good with saying the right thing in the best of times… so I kept my mouth shut. I kept my own sobs in… and I watched… and I waited to be needed again.
It’s been almost two weeks since then, and family and friends have all popped in. Sometimes they catch Tobes or Az when they’re in the mood to talk. Other times they’re locked in their room, deathly silent, and I have to be the messenger boy, the little brother, and I’m the one that's supposed to be strong now, because two of the closest people in my life simply can’t be any more.
I wasn’t alone, thankfully. Mike had more than a few words to share, and Nat’s phone calls to Az gave her a little more urge to walk around the house and converse. Tori would often be over with whatever type of take-out she’d picked up, making sure the two at least ate, still acting as the ever vigilant silent-sentinel to the chaos our little dysfunctional unit tended to create.
Georgie Nickels’ “brothers” had also been invaluable in keeping the press away. In keeping the entire situation quiet, at least until that Hugh Veyron jackass stuck his nose in and publicized my niece’s passing across the media. Since then it had been a mild media blitz, phonecalls at every hour being routed to either my cell phone, or Mike would field them and many a death threat would be uttered. I’m surprised none of the bastards tried to have my half-brother arrested for threats of bodily harm… but then, he does have a way with words… and an even more infamous way of following through with them.
Tonight seemed to be remarkable, a breakthrough, even. When the bedroom door opened and both Tobes and Az stepped out, walked into the living room and sat down in front of the television.
My sister-in-law’s hair is a mess, and she looks haggard, and Tobias’ unkempt beard tries in vain to cover his weathered face, but here they sit, with me, on the couch, staring vacantly at the television as though trying to fake a sense of normalcy.
“… we got anything to drink?”
I’m at the fridge before either of them can blink; bottle of bourbon for Tobes and some kinda red wine for Az’. Normally I wasn’t a proponent of problem drinking, but fuck it, they were actually initiating conversation with me!
I set the bottles in front of them – glasses were a non-factor in this type of endeavor – and sit down. I was waiting for some type of revelation… or some type of inspirational pick-me-up. Something that would let me know that they could – and WOULD – get past this, move on from it, and not let it control their life.
A half an hour later, that hope has waned, and with the exception of “yes" and "no” answers all communication has been all but non-existent, just two currently broken parents drinking themselves into oblivion.
I feel hopeless and angry… hopeless at the situation and angry at… fuck, everything, I guess. At whatever deity exists for stealing the life of a three year old girl, at my brother for searching for the solution at the bottom of a bottle, at myself for having no answers.
I get up and head to the guest room…
… and they remain. Drinking and broken, until sleep takes them both into tomorrow, where they’ll either search for the answers, or deny the truth.
I was still asleep when ESPN called.
Toby answered...