The Death Of A Friend

Death is more universal than life; everyone dies but not everyone lives.
A. Sachs

I've had a bad weekend. Not because my mother-in-law came into town, but because I lost a very good friend. In order to understand how close we were, I have to give you a little background.

My brother and I grew up on a farm. Not a farm like most people think of, but a farm that was an extension of a university agriculture program. As such, there were several people who lived on "The Farm." Only two families had children, my parents and Cody's parents.

My brother, Cody, and I grew up very close. My brother is 2 years younger than I am, and Cody was born about six months after my brother. We all played together as children. I was quite the little tomboy since I was the only girl of the bunch. All through school, the three of us rode the bus together and played together. When I left for college (not too far away), I obviously kept in touch with both of my little brothers. My brother spent a year in the dorm with a roommate, but when Cody went to college, it was obvious that the boys would be roommates. They were in the dorm, and the two of them plus another friend got a house togther. That was 3 years ago. They've been through several roommates for the 3rd person (probably because so many people want to live with the two of them that during the summers when one person goes home, another moves in!).

Cody was on his motorcycle on his way home early Sunday morning around 1:00 AM. A woman in a minivan made a turn in front of him, hitting him, before leaving the scene. She turned herself in about 8 or 9 hours later.

My mom called me Sunday morning to tell me that he had been a bad motorcycle accident, and they didn't know what was going to happen. I just couldn't believe it. She didn't know many details, but she would try to keep me updated. Cody's mother is her best friend.

I found out later that Cody had brain hemmoraging (I know I didn't spell that right). He was bleeding from the ears. He had a huge gash on the back of his head, but he wasn't stable enough for them to even turn him over to work on it. I dreaded the phone ringing because I knew that there couldn't be any good news.

It was obvious pretty quickly that even if he survived (and that was a big if), he wouldn't be Cody anymore. Cody would never want to live that way. He was removed from life support yesterday.

His family chose to donate his organs because that's what Cody would have wanted. I can't talk about this anymore right now. I'm at work, and it doesn't do any good for me to be crying my eyes out right before it's time to go home. I will warn you now that I will probably be covering this same subject for several days. It's the only thing that I can think about a lot of times.

I have so many memories of Cody that keep popping into my head. I'll probably write about all of them that I can think of simply because I'm afraid to forget.

Grief is such a weird thing, you know? I did go through some of the stages (and I'm sure I'll hit them all). Denial. How bad could it possilbly be? I couldn't believe that he wouldn't make it through. Anger. How could he not be wearing a helmet. I still don't understand and probably never will. Depression. That's the one that I'm stuck in now. I know it will get better after the funeral and with time.

My husband has been great. I can tell he's worried about me, but he's willing to do whatever I need, and he is willing to let me decide what that is. He has encouraged me to spend time with my parents and my brother and Cody's parents because he thinks it will be good for me.

Having dealt with anxiety disorder and depression, I try to be concious of my limits. And knowing what those are, I tend to shelter myself from things that will provoke an anxiety attack. To me, that is the ultimate embarrassment. I'll have to discuss my anxiety attacks at another time. The problem is, I don't know exactly where my limit is in this matter. Would going to Cody's parents' house set off an anxiety attack? I don't know. Another problem is that when I get depressed, my brain just shuts down. I don't know any other way to describe it. I feel dizzy and sleepy. I know that I don't have any other health conditions because this only happens when I get really stressed. Like when my husband works half the week in a town 2 1/2 hours away and I stay here to take care of the bills and the baby and everything else. That stress I've learned to deal with. I had adjusted and was doing fine. But, I wasn't to the point where I was ready to add more stress. I feel overloaded and sleepy. I just want to sleep. I want to go to bed and not worry. Like sleep will take away all the worry somehow. I can't really explain it because it doesn't really make sense.