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Frankie's Journal
just some stuff, and some of the inner most workings of my brain. hope you can bear the utter crap that flows from it.
I know this is depressing, but I felt I needed to put this somewhere, and seeing as how I don't keep an actual journal anywhere, this will do.

On March 5, 2009 my best friend's older brother committed suicide. I only wish I knew why he chose such an awful way to go. To put it plainly, he sat down in front of a train. I didn't know him very well, nor did I know how close of a relationship my friend had with her brother, but I learned very quickly.

March 10th, I went to the calling hours. I arrived right at 2pm and stayed all the way through to 8pm. As soon as I walked in I hugged her father, then gave my friend the biggest hug. I'm not very good at consoling people, so I did what I do best, finding a way to make her smile. These was a slide show full of pictures of him and many were of him and his sister, actually most of them were of them together, whether it was the first day of school, christmas, or a family vacation. Every time she saw the pictures, her eyes started tearing up, so I would point out the funny parts, like the abnormally large size of her dad's glasses in one, or how silly her brother looked in his batman outfit.

I was with her on and off during the day, letting her meet people showing up to give support to the family. While it was a time of mourning and coming together, it was also a bit of a reunion of people we had known in elementary and middle school. Toward the end of the night, she made a comment of how she loved the flowers her brother's friends brought, and wondered if it would be okay for her to take them; I told her that was the point.

When I finally made it home, I ate a little dinner then went up stairs to work on my pre-cal homework since I had a test in two days. I only made it half way through the first problem before I started balling. No one should ever have to suffer through what she's been through. I vented in every possible way. I was defensive of her and angry at her brother, then I was glad that he had lived so she had the experience of having a brother, and then I was back to being just sad again. I imagine she went through the same kind of ordeal with her emotions except to a more severe degree.

March 11 was the funeral and his 19th birthday. I know it would have been in bad taste, but I seriously thought we should have gotten a birthday cake, because birthdays and funerals share a common fundamental, they are both a celebration of a person's life. One celebrates that a person is alive, while the other celebrates that a person lived. I think a cake would have been just fine for that day, but to be sensitive, I didn't buy a cake. It was a funeral like most funerals.

Afterward, most people went back to the family's house for lunch and to chat and stuff. It really turned out to be the best part of the day. A bunch of friends were there, both her's and her brothers. Us of the younger generation ended up crammed in the basement (there were at least 25-30 people), playing a game known as "never have I ever". I got to learn some interesting things about my friends and her brothers friends that day. For instance, someone had ridden a marry-go-round naked, another had eaten poop, some had spent a night in jail, and others had never worn a crocheted hat. Following the game, one of his friends got out a guitar and began playing songs from memory while people sang along, my favorite was when everyone was singing along to "Tribute", including me.

Life is starting to get back on track, but it can never go back to being normal. She will never get her brother back, but I know he is watching out for her from the afterlife, and I will continue to look out for her and be the best friend I can be.

~John A. Cordell~
March 11, 1990
March 5, 2009

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