austin

xv.

austin,

so two weeks, huh? i'd think that's a long enough time to get used to the afterlife. long enough time to get settled in, to start, i don't know, taking messages for god so he can answer prayers later. i wonder if it works like that. people who die have to earn their keep in heaven for a while, working as secretaries for the big man. that'd be so funny. hundreds upon thousands upon millions upon trillions of cubicles full of people politely answering, "this is heaven. god's busy right now. can i take a message?"

you'd probably be really bad at that job. you'd be playing tetris on your computer instead of answering prayers. i feel bad for the poor bastard whose prayers get sent to your line.

anyways, i guess that in the same way two weeks is long enough to get used to being dead, two weeks is long enough to stop missing someone you're not close enough to. if a celebrity died, he or she would be on the news for a while, but two weeks later, it'd be old news. and every now and again, people would say, "i can't believe they're dead." but nobody thinks about it much after that.

but it'd be different if you were a family member, or a best friend, of the celebrity. then you'd think about it for quite some time.

it could be months before you stop thinking about it every day. it could be months before it feels like putting thoughts of the person you've lost in your head is as basic as putting on a shirt every day. it could be months before you stop worrying about letting details about them slip from your mind. cass sounded like she was on the brink of a panic attack when she called me and told me she was forgetting you. and i bet i would be the same way if i was forgetting.

i don't know if i'll start forgetting you, but at that point i'll probably be okay with it. i know i've forgotten some pictures of the celebrities that have died in my lifetime.

i remember the other day saying i hope i never forget you, but after looking over it, i've decided it's not like i can control it, honestly. when i was younger, everything used to upset me. but since you died, i've started to relax a little. if i could have saved your life and died instead, you bet your ass i would have commited murder to do it. but i couldn't. and i'm upset that you died, of course, but i don't know. i'm just upset in a different way. i'm sad that it happened, but i'm okay with that. it sounds awful but i don't know how to explain it. that's the closest i'm going to get.

at school today, mrs. spinder did that thing i knew she was going to do. the thing where she passes out safety plans or something to further educate the poor kids of this dumb school on how to make sure we don't die in a random accident.

she walked into our social studies classroom and she said "hello, kids," very quietly. she positioned her skinny little body on the stool at the front of the classroom and handed her stack of papers to our teacher. he passed them out to everybody.

"it's been two weeks since austin passed away," she said, pursing her lips. "i think it's time we go over some things."

i prepared all the different ways i could protest in my head. i started picturing me getting up and walking out of the classroom in the middle of her lecture. i pictured running down the hall and into mr. prefor's room, where he'd call me "champ" again, and he'd say he understands, and he'd let me work on the puzzle in his classroom. i think we picked a good favorite teacher. he picked a good favorite student, too. it's just a shame you had to leave before he got to see you grow up.

and then mrs. spinder said, "we're going to go over some grief tactics."

and i felt everything in me relax. i almost asked, "really?" because i couldn't believe that she was going to go over something serious.

but i looked down at the paper, and it had lots of resources for grief centers and whatnot.

and during class, we talked about them one by one, and once the bell rang, she called me up to talk to her.

"austin, can i share something with you?" she asked.

"yeah," i said.

"you haven't shown signs of suicide or depression, which i'm very thankful for," she began. she pulled out a pamphlet and handed it to me. it was folded in half from being in her pocket. "but in case you start to feel like you're going off the deep end, because you're going to be able to know it more than anyone, just look through this. it's got some numbers you can call."

in my mind, i started to write it off as one of those pamphlets they give to everyone, but as i turned around, she put her hand on my shoulder.

"i've talked to some of these people before. i hilighted the one that helped me the most after my parents died."

"your parents died?" i asked, and immediately i regretted it. if that kind of information had been leaked and people asked me about it, i'd be enraged, honestly.

"yeah," she said, the memories washing over her eyes. "on a plane ride. they were coming to visit me from oklahoma. they'd been so devestated when i left." she giggled a little.

"i'm so sorry, mrs. spinder," i said, thoughts about what she must have gone through running through my head.

"that's alright, kyle," she said. "it's what made me go into psychology in the first place. now i can help you wonderful kids when you go through similar things." she shrugged. "it helps me as much as it helps you guys."

"thanks," i said, and i hope she knew i was talking about more than the pamphlet.

and then school ended a little while later.

i wonder what it feels like to lose your parents, especially when they were trying to do something for you. i cannot even imagine the guilt you'd feel, the pain you'd have, the blame and hate you'd think you were getting from the family, when it was all coming from yourself.

you only died because of drunk driving. you weren't doing anything for me. i know you weren't even doing it for yourself, because you hate family thanksgivings. but what it would feel like to lose your parents because they were trying to visit you...i can't stop thinking about it. the thought burns my heart the same way the thought of you burns my heart. but i guess there's no way to put an end to that.

- kyle