February 25
a rundown of brotherly issues.
i am so swamped right now with school related stuff. seriously. and i was doing fine trucking along with those endeavors(well, kinda) until just now when i spoke to my mom, and now I’m fucking stressed. near combustion. aside from talking real estate, my least favorite thing to do, she gave me some more news on my brother’s death. so i figured I’d do a little compilation here of things that have happened since he died, 2 and a half months ago.
-he died on a Friday. on Sunday, from bethesda, MD, i called a friend in seattle to ask his assistance in determining appropriate buddhist prayers and the like, as my brother had been studying buddhism for as long i can remember. i just wanted to discuss some related issues with him, and so on. he told me he had his own questions, and wasn’t sure about prayers and such, but would get in touch with people who could answer the questions, and then get back to me. about a half hour after getting off the phone with him, he called back to tell me that less than a minute after hanging up from our conversation, his phone rang again. it was his father, who he hadn’t spoken to for a very long time, calling from a buddhist center in california. nice coincidence.
-short but sweet: for my brother’s funeral, my sister was able to use her connections in the tibetan community(she’s fundraised for the dali lama several times. excuse any misspellings there.). the outcome of this was that tibetan buddhists in tibet included ceremonies for my brother in their prayers. PLUS, it just so happened a tibetan monk was going to be in tucson the day of the funeral, and agreed to perform a puja and a phowa, the first being a traditional ceremony for the dead, and the second being a ceremony that is very rarely performed, which helps in projecting the deceased’s “soul” directly to the pure land. especially in situations of suicide, or dealing with murderers, or others with complex karma, this ritual is very highly regarded.
-apparently my brother had been working with a buddhist nun in maryland, who arranged to not only have ANOTHER buddhist monk do a prayer during the actual funeral, but found an inter-faith ex-pasture who was willing to do prayers of the christian variety(we asked that it be very general), so that my grandparents would stop freaking out about their grandchild not having a relationship with jesus, hopefully in an attempt to give them some closure as well.
-during the phowa, which was held before the actual funeral, and lasted for about an hour, i started to feel lightheaded and giddy during what seemed like a transition point in the ritual. i watched as the leaves on the casket began to shake, and the flower arrangement fell off. i then fought the urge to laugh, as i felt elated and intoxicated. upon sharing the experience afterwards, my sisters felt this as well. the monk explained through the translator that that was absolutely a positive sign, and that what he had spoken of before the ritual(8 doors of the body closing so the spirit could escape through the 9th) was rarely illustrated in such a manner. this ritual helped us SO MUCH, and as we greeted people before the funeral, i was able to smile and have confidence and faith, rather than succumb to grief. phenomenal.
-a few weeks after i got home, i was at a party and my friend johnny gave me a huge hug, and then confessed he had something to tell me, but didn’t know how to approach it. long story really short, johnny’s cousin/best friend mike was visiting, and had started telling johnny earlier in the night about his brother having a horrible experience. his brother, also johnny’s cousin, worked at the national institutes of health. he had witnessed a suicide. johnny began to put the pieces together and realized that his cousin had been in the atrium when my brother jumped. he HEARD it. because i have seen this space, and realize the impact of a body falling 7 stories onto granite floors, this hit home for me pretty hardcore. i was initially amazed - what a small world. as the night wore on, however, it brought home to me the reality of a body falling through that space and the violence of that death. i saw my brothers body, after they’d done a lot of reconstruction, and seen the flatness of his face and the fact that it was utterly unrecognizable as him. but this made real the fact that there were people there who witnessed this and who were shattered by it just like my family. as jen later pointed out, though - it’s quite a blessing that someone so closely connected to me was present.
-my mother got a letter from the director of NIH. the first portion offered condolences, the second part recounted his journey to tucson over the holidays, where he discovered that his nephew, michael, was best friends with my brother in middle school.
-buddhist beliefs say that the afterlife transition lasts 49 days. during this time, the soul is working out karma, conflicts, and transitioning. yeah. the monk who performed the phowa had asked my mom to burn some food every day for those 49 days, at the same time. he, too, would be doing this. my mom and i had a debate, around day 44 or 45 as to whether you count the day of death in these 49 days or not. on the day i considered the 49th, my mom received the following email:
Subject: Hola!
Hola I got an aol email when I was trying to get an aim, and I love you
sooo much.
Love, Daniel
she was pretty freaked out by it, and i figured it was spam. in any case, my heart was uplifted, and i knew that whatever the coincidence, that was our sign that that day was the 49th, and he was successfully through it. my mom responded, and got a response from a woman who apologized for her 8 year old son, daniel, messing around with the computer. i am still absolutely amazed by this.
-today, my mom called to tell me she finally got the autopsy and toxicology reports. the toxicology screen picked up nothing besides tylenol. upon looking through the records she already had, she realized there’s no documentation that daniel was ever given his antipsychotics the day he died. my question is: even with that taken into account, how is there no trace of antipsychotics or antidepressants whatsoever? this makes me so uneasy. i have a father who’s death will always remain a mystery - I’ve been through the questioning and the documentation and the realization that when authorities cover things up, there is just no finding the truth. it’s a fucking ridiculous process. and while i have my own explanations and have made my own peace with my brother’s suicide, it lays very heavily on my chest to think that once again, this uncertainty might creep into my family.
