~~~~GREATEST BIG BROTHER EVER~~~~
Sure, everyone says that about their big bro, but in this case, it was true. He was everything. So, cool. He drove a red cutlass, drank "Little Kings," listened to Ted Nugent and Sammy Hagar. He taught us how to be cool. Everything he did was cool. We wanted to be just like him. He had it all. The style, the class, the look. He was athletic to the point of having trophies. He had the best group of friends, and was so great in fact, grades didn't matter; and our parents were so enamored with him he could basically get away with anything.
But all of that meant nothing on a cold December night. It hit our family like a ton of bricks when the midnight phone call came a few days before Christmas. He what? Mike? No, this was a mistake. Why am I standing in this kitchen, as my Daddy says, "Brenda, Mikey's dead."
No.
No.
No.
Let's just say it doesn't make sense. It never has for a single second in almost forty years...and it will never make sense no matter how much time passes.
He was only on this earth for 20 years and he made lasting memories that have kept him alive in our hearts, our thoughts, our conversations for almost forty years now. Gosh, not 10, not 20, not 30, but close to four decades have passed without him... Our big brother would be quite old now if he had lived. Would he be married? Divorced? Would we have more nieces and nephews? Where would he live? What would he look like now? Would he have continued to make my parents proud? Would they have lived longer if they hadn't had to bury a child?
Oh, the five stages of grief don't apply when it is a suicide. Trust me. There are two dimensions of grief. Once the initial shock of being in 'The Twilight Zone' wears off, there is nothing but devastation.
There is no grey area in this tragedy. There are only:
Days when you hate him; days when you love him.
Days you call him names because he took his own life; days you feel guilty because you didn't see his pain.
Days when you cry at the thought of him, days when you giggle because you still cannot believe he freaking used to have a pet alligator named Ted!
Days when you think he was selfish; days when you feel selfish for thinking he was selfish.
But the worst part of all -- when people start talking about the fact that people who commit suicide go straight to hell. That, my friend, hurts more than anything. First off, THEY DON'T KNOW THAT. Secondly, THEY DON'T REALIZE HOW THAT MAKES A SUICIDE SURVIVOR FEEL. Thirdly, IT'S NOT THEIR PLACE TO SAY. That is what sticks in your already confused brain. I know he is in heaven with my Mom, Dad, Grandpa, and Grandma. I will see him again. This is not denial. This is the fact that God knew he was hurting, just like any other terminal person who can no longer take the pain, God called him home. God's grace and arms are strong enough and long enough to welcome my big brother.
Some day God will welcome me, too.
"For 'Everyone who calls on the name of the LORD will be saved.'" Romans 10:13
****************************************
Thank you, Valencia, Angel of Mine, for sponsoring Mike's Memorial. It means the world to me.
Please visit her daughter:
Valencia Michelle Ramirez
and her precious great granddaughter:
Asia Allure "Princess" DeLeon
Sure, everyone says that about their big bro, but in this case, it was true. He was everything. So, cool. He drove a red cutlass, drank "Little Kings," listened to Ted Nugent and Sammy Hagar. He taught us how to be cool. Everything he did was cool. We wanted to be just like him. He had it all. The style, the class, the look. He was athletic to the point of having trophies. He had the best group of friends, and was so great in fact, grades didn't matter; and our parents were so enamored with him he could basically get away with anything.
But all of that meant nothing on a cold December night. It hit our family like a ton of bricks when the midnight phone call came a few days before Christmas. He what? Mike? No, this was a mistake. Why am I standing in this kitchen, as my Daddy says, "Brenda, Mikey's dead."
No.
No.
No.
Let's just say it doesn't make sense. It never has for a single second in almost forty years...and it will never make sense no matter how much time passes.
He was only on this earth for 20 years and he made lasting memories that have kept him alive in our hearts, our thoughts, our conversations for almost forty years now. Gosh, not 10, not 20, not 30, but close to four decades have passed without him... Our big brother would be quite old now if he had lived. Would he be married? Divorced? Would we have more nieces and nephews? Where would he live? What would he look like now? Would he have continued to make my parents proud? Would they have lived longer if they hadn't had to bury a child?
Oh, the five stages of grief don't apply when it is a suicide. Trust me. There are two dimensions of grief. Once the initial shock of being in 'The Twilight Zone' wears off, there is nothing but devastation.
There is no grey area in this tragedy. There are only:
Days when you hate him; days when you love him.
Days you call him names because he took his own life; days you feel guilty because you didn't see his pain.
Days when you cry at the thought of him, days when you giggle because you still cannot believe he freaking used to have a pet alligator named Ted!
Days when you think he was selfish; days when you feel selfish for thinking he was selfish.
But the worst part of all -- when people start talking about the fact that people who commit suicide go straight to hell. That, my friend, hurts more than anything. First off, THEY DON'T KNOW THAT. Secondly, THEY DON'T REALIZE HOW THAT MAKES A SUICIDE SURVIVOR FEEL. Thirdly, IT'S NOT THEIR PLACE TO SAY. That is what sticks in your already confused brain. I know he is in heaven with my Mom, Dad, Grandpa, and Grandma. I will see him again. This is not denial. This is the fact that God knew he was hurting, just like any other terminal person who can no longer take the pain, God called him home. God's grace and arms are strong enough and long enough to welcome my big brother.
Some day God will welcome me, too.
"For 'Everyone who calls on the name of the LORD will be saved.'" Romans 10:13
****************************************
Thank you, Valencia, Angel of Mine, for sponsoring Mike's Memorial. It means the world to me.
Please visit her daughter:
Valencia Michelle Ramirez
and her precious great granddaughter:
Asia Allure "Princess" DeLeon
~~~~GREATEST BIG BROTHER EVER~~~~
Sure, everyone says that about their big bro, but in this case, it was true. He was everything. So, cool. He drove a red cutlass, drank "Little Kings," listened to Ted Nugent and Sammy Hagar. He taught us how to be cool. Everything he did was cool. We wanted to be just like him. He had it all. The style, the class, the look. He was athletic to the point of having trophies. He had the best group of friends, and was so great in fact, grades didn't matter; and our parents were so enamored with him he could basically get away with anything.
But all of that meant nothing on a cold December night. It hit our family like a ton of bricks when the midnight phone call came a few days before Christmas. He what? Mike? No, this was a mistake. Why am I standing in this kitchen, as my Daddy says, "Brenda, Mikey's dead."
No.
No.
No.
Let's just say it doesn't make sense. It never has for a single second in almost forty years...and it will never make sense no matter how much time passes.
He was only on this earth for 20 years and he made lasting memories that have kept him alive in our hearts, our thoughts, our conversations for almost forty years now. Gosh, not 10, not 20, not 30, but close to four decades have passed without him... Our big brother would be quite old now if he had lived. Would he be married? Divorced? Would we have more nieces and nephews? Where would he live? What would he look like now? Would he have continued to make my parents proud? Would they have lived longer if they hadn't had to bury a child?
Oh, the five stages of grief don't apply when it is a suicide. Trust me. There are two dimensions of grief. Once the initial shock of being in 'The Twilight Zone' wears off, there is nothing but devastation.
There is no grey area in this tragedy. There are only:
Days when you hate him; days when you love him.
Days you call him names because he took his own life; days you feel guilty because you didn't see his pain.
Days when you cry at the thought of him, days when you giggle because you still cannot believe he freaking used to have a pet alligator named Ted!
Days when you think he was selfish; days when you feel selfish for thinking he was selfish.
But the worst part of all -- when people start talking about the fact that people who commit suicide go straight to hell. That, my friend, hurts more than anything. First off, THEY DON'T KNOW THAT. Secondly, THEY DON'T REALIZE HOW THAT MAKES A SUICIDE SURVIVOR FEEL. Thirdly, IT'S NOT THEIR PLACE TO SAY. That is what sticks in your already confused brain. I know he is in heaven with my Mom, Dad, Grandpa, and Grandma. I will see him again. This is not denial. This is the fact that God knew he was hurting, just like any other terminal person who can no longer take the pain, God called him home. God's grace and arms are strong enough and long enough to welcome my big brother.
Some day God will welcome me, too.
"For 'Everyone who calls on the name of the LORD will be saved.'" Romans 10:13
****************************************
Thank you, Valencia, Angel of Mine, for sponsoring Mike's Memorial. It means the world to me.
Please visit her daughter:
Valencia Michelle Ramirez
and her precious great granddaughter:
Asia Allure "Princess" DeLeon
Sure, everyone says that about their big bro, but in this case, it was true. He was everything. So, cool. He drove a red cutlass, drank "Little Kings," listened to Ted Nugent and Sammy Hagar. He taught us how to be cool. Everything he did was cool. We wanted to be just like him. He had it all. The style, the class, the look. He was athletic to the point of having trophies. He had the best group of friends, and was so great in fact, grades didn't matter; and our parents were so enamored with him he could basically get away with anything.
But all of that meant nothing on a cold December night. It hit our family like a ton of bricks when the midnight phone call came a few days before Christmas. He what? Mike? No, this was a mistake. Why am I standing in this kitchen, as my Daddy says, "Brenda, Mikey's dead."
No.
No.
No.
Let's just say it doesn't make sense. It never has for a single second in almost forty years...and it will never make sense no matter how much time passes.
He was only on this earth for 20 years and he made lasting memories that have kept him alive in our hearts, our thoughts, our conversations for almost forty years now. Gosh, not 10, not 20, not 30, but close to four decades have passed without him... Our big brother would be quite old now if he had lived. Would he be married? Divorced? Would we have more nieces and nephews? Where would he live? What would he look like now? Would he have continued to make my parents proud? Would they have lived longer if they hadn't had to bury a child?
Oh, the five stages of grief don't apply when it is a suicide. Trust me. There are two dimensions of grief. Once the initial shock of being in 'The Twilight Zone' wears off, there is nothing but devastation.
There is no grey area in this tragedy. There are only:
Days when you hate him; days when you love him.
Days you call him names because he took his own life; days you feel guilty because you didn't see his pain.
Days when you cry at the thought of him, days when you giggle because you still cannot believe he freaking used to have a pet alligator named Ted!
Days when you think he was selfish; days when you feel selfish for thinking he was selfish.
But the worst part of all -- when people start talking about the fact that people who commit suicide go straight to hell. That, my friend, hurts more than anything. First off, THEY DON'T KNOW THAT. Secondly, THEY DON'T REALIZE HOW THAT MAKES A SUICIDE SURVIVOR FEEL. Thirdly, IT'S NOT THEIR PLACE TO SAY. That is what sticks in your already confused brain. I know he is in heaven with my Mom, Dad, Grandpa, and Grandma. I will see him again. This is not denial. This is the fact that God knew he was hurting, just like any other terminal person who can no longer take the pain, God called him home. God's grace and arms are strong enough and long enough to welcome my big brother.
Some day God will welcome me, too.
"For 'Everyone who calls on the name of the LORD will be saved.'" Romans 10:13
****************************************
Thank you, Valencia, Angel of Mine, for sponsoring Mike's Memorial. It means the world to me.
Please visit her daughter:
Valencia Michelle Ramirez
and her precious great granddaughter:
Asia Allure "Princess" DeLeon
