Grand Entrance

Pt. 4 of 4

           Paul’s dead.  One sentence that I am reminded of daily.  When people lose their humans you hear them say, “not a day goes by that I don’t think about them.”  I never used to believe that, but as I approach the five year anniversary of his death, I get it.  Some days I hear a little melody or see a sunset that reminds me of our crazy shenanigans as kids, while other days the silence screams louder than I think I can bear.  Nevertheless, everyday is a day I remember my brother.
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              There was a week between hearing the news for the very first time and covering his casket with dirt.  In that week the flow of people, food, and confusion was virtually nonstop.  As a freshman I had been rehearsing for a few months to perform in our school play which conveniently fell on the Friday and Saturday following the accident.  I had lost my childhood best friend, my tag team partner, and my big brother three days before, but I went on stage anyway.  It was then that I subconsciously cleared out a wee little space within the depths of myself to bear the pain I fought tooth and nail to believe was not true.  I failed to recognize then, but have come to know with time, that it was in those days I had split myself and became one person living two individual lives with drastically different stories.  I don’t regret performing because it truly captured my ability as a rookie actress, I truly found joy in being a part of it, and it just seemed like the right thing to do at the time. However, going through with the seemingly insignificant play became the grand entrance of what would soon become my darkest valley.