When I was younger, I was always close with my favorite cousin, Catherine. Even though she was ten years older than me, she always had a way of understanding me. She was the sister I never had. As we both got older, we drifted apart and before I knew it, she was off to college. Even though we were over 400 miles apart, I hadn’t forgot about her. I sent Catherine letters and cards for her birthday. When she and her brother Stephen came to visit during holidays, I tried to spend as much time as possible with her. Sometimes she couldn’t make it, and sometimes she brought her boyfriend Cole up with her, too. After she graduated, Catherine decided to stay in southern California with Cole.
My other cousin, Katrina, who is seven years older than me, told my brother and I in confidence that Catherine was back in the Bay Area. This struck us as very odd, especially when she told us why: Catherine was in jail for a night because she beat up Cole. Katrina then proceeded to tell us that Catherine was also in a mental institution for some time. This was really a blow for me because Catherine always seemed like such a stable and sure girl. This was the first shift in my paradigm, making me reevaluate the people in my life, wondering if there could be something wrong with their minds as well. Even scarier, what if this could happen to me?
When we had family gatherings, things with Catherine would always be awkward, and I hated it. I knew she was trying her best to reconnect with all of us, but it had been so long since we had last hung out with her. She started to come over to my house every week with her mother (my aunt) when she came to visit. Sometimes we watched movies, but she couldn’t sit with us because of her medications. She mostly slept or played with my dog while my brother and I minded our own business. She was a lot quieter, and never smiled for pictures anymore. I felt like I was losing her to her sickness.
One weekend, I was at a swim meet with my mother. After I was done swimming for the day, and we were about to get into the car, she turned to me and told me that somebody in our family had passed. I immediately thought of my elderly grandparents and how one could not possibly live without the other. But when I tentatively asked her who it was, she said it was Catherine (as she choked back tears). My immediate reaction was complete and utter shock. This wasn’t possible. My 24-year-old cousin could not have possibly died. When I asked my mother how she died, she told me that Catherine was home alone and had a seizure in the bathroom the day before. My aunt found her when she came home from work. That’s when I started to cry, because I imagined my aunt coming home to find her only daughter dead on the cold, hard bathroom floor, when she planned on staying home to take care of her. I could feel her regret and her pain, and it was overwhelming. My mother said she didn’t tell me the night before because she thought I was too young to handle it, but my father convinced her otherwise. I told her that I could handle it, but everything was still kind of hazy. I felt like I was in a dream. Was this really happening? I had never had a member of my family die before. Then I thought about how I didn’t even put in the effort to talk much with her in her final days. That really made me hate myself. I felt like an insensitive jerk for not supporting my favorite cousin when she really needed it. When I got home that day, I felt as if I was the last one to know about Catherine’s passing. I was so devastated that I had no sense of self anymore. I couldn’t even think straight. How could this have happened to such a good person? The next few weeks were all so hard for me and my family.
Several weeks after Catherine’s passing came her memorial service. I’d have to say that this was the hardest thing to get through in my life. When I walked in, I saw my aunt broken down in tears with my grandparents. I just couldn’t take it; I didn’t stop crying from then until I walked out of the church. When everyone was reading about their favorite memories of Catherine, I felt as if it was finally becoming real: Catherine was dead. She was never going to come back, and I was never going to be able to spend time with her ever again. When my grandma spoke, it was absolutely overwhelming. She had lost her first grandchild, and my aunt had lost her first child. It was terrible, but I could only empathize with them to a certain extent since I had never had any children. Finally, when her brother Stephen went up to speak, I lost control. I pictured myself losing my only sibling (my brother), and it was the worst. I put himself in his shoes and it was completely unbearable because for him, it was the loss of a sibling rather than the loss of a child (for my aunt). When we all went up to the open casket to say our last goodbyes to Catherine before she was cremated, I broke down once again. Seeing her lie there, so at peace, but so utterly dead, will forever be etched in my mind. Somehow, my whole family composed ourselves when we came out of the service, and I am so proud to know that I have such a strong family.
It wasn’t until the memorial service that I learned what mental illnesses Catherine had. She was diagnosed with depression and bipolar disorder. This surprised me because it never showed in her actions when I saw her. She always seemed fine, just a bit quiet. I was so shaken by all of this, but I think I was still in too much shock to wrap my head around it. It has been almost 6 months since Catherine’s passing, but I feel like I have only just begun to feel how it has changed me. Writing this paper has made me realize that her passing has made me appreciate life and my loved ones more, because you never know how much more time you have on this earth. Tragically, Catherine only lived 24 years of her life. It has also rekindled my interest in psychology and the study of mental illnesses, which is a little less profound than having appreciation for the little time we have left to be alive. I think that these lessons have always been in the back of mind, but writing this has brought them to the surface.
